All That's Left
by Bobby G. Grissom
Summary: AU. Our four heroes are reincarnated into modern times. A street urchin, a jaded detective, a wounded teacher and a bartender must once again find each other through haunting events, to try and stop the dangers that follow them. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Please read first! **There is some violent and adult themed content in this story, beginning with this first chapter, so please be aware. Also note that I do not own Saiyuki or the Crow, which inspired this chapter. Enjoy :)

I've also changed their names to keep with the modern world idea. For now this is how the list goes.

Sam Genet - Genjo Sanzo

Cody Sonnagh - Son Goku

Hank Chogan - Cho Hakkai

Joe Shayne - Sha Gojyo

Hannah - Kannan

**Chapter 1: In Dying Memory**

The rain came down in droves, cold and blinding, whipping against the windowpanes like so many bullets. Cop cars had been speeding by for the better part of the past hour and in the distance flames and smoke licked the dark night as though the fires of hell had sprung up to engulf the city. Up on the sixth floor of a commercial building turned apartments, a young woman sat at the window watching the chaos unfold bellow.

Hank Chogan lit the last candle on the small table in the center of the room then just stood and watched Hannah sitting in the window seat, mesmerized at her beauty. The candles he had lit around the loft cast her in an orange glow, the shadows playing across her angelic features as she lifted a hand to the cold glass beside her and traced the streaks of raindrops. When he found he couldn't wait any longer he quietly walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, lowering his mouth to her sweet neck. He caught her smile in the reflection before she slipped her arms up and backwards to rest around his shoulders.

"There are at least four fires out there started in the past half hour. They're monsters," she told him although he already knew.

Just as he knew that there would be more fires to come in the few hours remaining till morning and hundreds would inevitably be injured or deceased because that was the way the Dark Crows worked. The street gang itself wasn't much of a threat, although they terrorized the neighbourhood constantly. No, what made them threatening was their connection with the Centipede, one of the cities leading drug dealers. He infected people with his poison just like the creature he was named after. He was the real monster behind these arsons.

These thoughts added to the dark feelings of foreboding Hank had been feeling all evening. Even with the usual midnight calm disrupted by the chaos of unleashed hell, he still held the sense that something greater would happen. He tightened his grip around Hannah, clutching the fabric of her sweater until it bunched around her slim waist.

"Come on Hannah, come away from the window," he whispered against her neck.

"Um huh," she mumbled back, raising from the seat and turning in his arms.

He captured her mouth in a searing kiss and backed her toward the bed. Her slender hands slipped down around his waist to pull his shirttails from his pants then worked their way along the row of buttons, undoing then slowly and pulling the sides apart. He broke the kiss off with a gasp and rested his forehead against hers. He could feel her warm breath caress his face as her nails lightly grazed over his chest.

Capturing her hands in both of his he mumbled, "You know you drive me crazy when you do that."

"You're too beautiful to not drive crazy," she replied and pressed her lips to his chest as her hands were still captured under his and unable to continue their sweet torture.

With a rough growl he took the last step to the bed and tumbled down with her. Capturing her mouth in another kiss, he slipped his hands under her sweater to do some wandering of his own. She slipped her hands up to cup his face, fingering the three earrings in his left ear before slipping her fingers through his hair.

Hannah moaned softly before whispering, "You have such wonderful hands."

The series of events that followed happened so quickly that neither could fully process it. The door smashed open with such force that the chain lock nearly pulled itself free from the wall, where it was secured. Hannah screamed and gripped Hank so tightly it hurt, as the shoulders behind the first blow continue ramming against the door. Hank pulled himself away from Hannah in order to run across the loft for the phone just when the intruders cut the chain and gained access into their home. A gunshot was fired, grazing along Hank's arm, stopping him directly in the path of the members of the Dark Crow gang.

"Well, well look at what we've got here boys," one of them goaded as he took notice of all the candles. "Seems we've interrupted some loving." The next comment he directed at Hank before his leering eyes and greasy smile turned to Hannah, "But no worries. There'll still be some action tonight."

On a purely basic level Hank reacted, grabbing the man by his shirt to turn him around before punching him across the face. His minions reacted as well. Two of them tackled him to the ground and pinned him down as the third reigned solid blows to his stomach and ribs with steal toe boots. The man, who was clearly the leader, got up before wiping the small streak of blood from the corner of his mouth. He commanded his crew to deal with Hank as he walked away in the vicinity of the bed.

Hannah's cries rang out through the loft, making Hank see red. Out of the corner of his vision he could see the bastard pinning her to the bed, tearing away at her sweater till it lay disregarded in a heap on the floor. Hank fought his way up, but had only made it to his knees when a foot made contact with the side of his face and knocked him back down. The scrape on his arm from the gunshot burned with a white-hot pain and breathing had become difficult. He suspected he had broken a rib, possibly several, but that hardly mattered now. The bastard had Hannah's arms pinned above her head in one hand and was slapping her across the face with the other.

He couldn't do anything. Two of them were holding down his arms while the third sat across his legs, taunting him with a blade. Dragging it along his chest just hard enough to break through the skin and leave small red streaks in its wake. To his left he heard Hannah choke out a cry through her tears. The bastard was on her. On her! Bruising the delicate flesh of her breasts with his hands, raping her neck with his tongue…

Hank fought with everything in him to get to her only to feel the knife, which had been dangling above him seconds before, now get buried in his gut and dragged across. They hadn't expected him to keep fighting after that and it was this hesitation that allowed him to finally break lose. One of the two men who had been holding down his arms panicked and let off a crazed gunshot, which caught Hank squarely in the arm this time. But he now had a weak link he could exploit. With blinding speed he tackled the guy to the ground and quickly gained possession of the gun, firing a shot off in the chest. Before he had even registered the sound of footsteps behind him he whirled around and let off another two bullets, watching with morbid fascination as the bodies instantly crumbled to the ground. He fell to his knees after them, gasping for breath and clutching a hand to his profusely bleeding middle.

He could feel his strength slipping, but wouldn't allow himself to be absorbed by the peaceful darkness that beckoned him. He had to save Hannah. He turned just in time to see a look of terror pass over her swollen features as a knife was dragged across her throat, stealing the life from her limp form. With a cry he charged in her direction, forgetting his pain as he threw the last of the intruders to the ground with another punch to the face, but his efforts were all in vain. Crying with wild abandonment he pressed her to his chest, feeling her warm blood soak his skin. Her once creamy complexion was now ghostly white, stained with crimson and half formed bruises and it was entirely his fault.

He was pulled from his sorrow by a harsh sadistic laugh. His crying forgotten, Hank's hands fisted around Hannah, holding her body tighter and pressing her closer as his eyes darkened and his wrath surfaced with a vengeful force. He softly lay her body back down on the bed before he turned on his last victim with a guttural growl. The man wisely stopped his laughing and, with traces of fear entering his previously self-assured look, he began searching the floor for his knife. It had been tossed into the corner of the room upon his falling and he had no chance of reaching it before Hank struck. Not that it would have been able to save him even if he had managed to gain hold of it.

Hank let lose an uncontrolled punch, which caught the gangster in the stomach and sent him sprawling back over the dresser. As the candles were knocked over one rolled down to rest on its side under the drapes, which quickly caught fire before the flame was snuffed out by its own wax. It hit the stakes of books he kept on the floor because he had run out of space in the book shelf and moved on to the sofa, spreading like wild fire and ravaging the loft with its thick smoke and scalding orange flames. The other man panicked as they were quickly getting closed in but Hank, who couldn't care less, continued to approach him with slow deliberateness. He attacked with everything he had in him, keeping himself up purely on adrenaline and a need for retribution.

_They'll pay. Every last one of them will pay. _

With his hand firmly around the gangsters' throat he pinned him to the wall. The smoke was thick and they both couldn't help choking and coughing.

"Why us? Who the fucking hell sent you to come after _us_?" Hank demanded tightening his grip around the other man till he began to wheeze.

Through bouts of coughing he managed to reply, "The…the Centipede. He told…us…to off the two of you."

"Why?" Hank shouted shoving his captive against the wall as the heat closed in around them and the smoke grew ever thicker.

"The…the…article. Her name…picture…in the article."

Hank shut his eyes at these words. Hannah had been so proud at her first real article concerning the inner city schools' after-school projects. She had been fighting to get a bigger budget for the projects to keep the kids off the streets and away from gangs like this one. Her picture, one with her surrounded by a dozen of his students, had followed the article.

While he lost himself in the memory and pain the gangster took the opportunity to push out of his hold and charge his way out the window, amid broken glass and debris. There was a fire exit, but with the force and speed of the man's jump he couldn't stop himself from being flung over the railing and falling six stories to his death. Hank watched from the busted window as blood stained the sidewalk bellow, the bastard's body now nothing more then a crumpled heap. The toxic air became too much, though, and Hank fell to his knees choking for oxygen. Looking back he saw for the first time that the whole loft was consumed by the fire and if he wanted to get out he would need to take the fire escape quickly.

_You're not finished. You need to get him for Hannah._

Fighting his way back to his feet through a coughing fit that hurt his ribs so bad he thought he might pass out from the pain, he struggled down the fire escape and into the back alley. It had been rumoured that the Centipede kept base atop a nightclub three blocks over and for his own sake Hank prayed it was true. Loss of blood, smoke inhalation - he wasn't sure he could even make it the three blocks. With some difficulty he pulled off his shirt and pressed it to the open wound across his middle in an attempt to stem the flow of blood, before he began making his way to the club. The gun he had previously used was tucked into his belt waiting for the moment when it would once again become useful.

* * *

The music from the club could be heard half a block over, the florescent glow and orb lights streaming through the windows of the warehouse painted the street. Hank stumbled past the open doors and amid the ocean of bare limbs and black leather he took stock of the layout, searching for his victims hideout. Across the room he noticed a man dressed in black from head to toe look back over his shoulder before discretely slipping through a doorway behind the edge of the bar. That's where he wanted to be. Slowly making his way along the edge of the crowd, avoiding the orgy like scene that paid him no notice anyways, he reached the bar. He didn't have to wait long for the bar tender to head down to the other side to serve drinks, giving him the opportunity to slip past the door into the hallway beyond. The place was empty – nothing more than a metallic hall with bare light bulbs dangling in a single row along the ceiling.

As he made his way down the passage Hank suddenly became aware of a sound other then the echo of his own footsteps. Just up ahead he could hear muffled voices, one was distinctly female and at least another two males. That was when he came across a heavy looking metal slab of a door. He reached out a hand to test if it would open and felt it give easily and soundlessly. Apparently someone forgot to lock up. He pulled the gun from his belt and cocked it before shoving the door open with his shoulder, still pressing the blood soaked shirt to his middle with the other hand.

"'Bout time you got here. What the hell took…" the female's voice drifted off when she turned and saw Hank standing in place of whoever she had been expecting.

"When picking a victim, you damn well better make sure they aren't going to fight back," Hank growled, raising the gun and firing at the woman first.

With a cry she dropped from her seat followed by the man closest to her who was attempting to see if she was all right while the other reached for his own gun. The next shot hit the latter of the men in the head, staining the wall behind him with brain matter, which Hank sadistically found himself mesmerized with. At the cock of another gun behind him Hank whirled and shot the other man in the head as well.

_Where the hell is he?_

The Centipede hadn't been among the three, but luckily he didn't have to go in search of him. Footsteps came down the corridor, stopping in the doorway to survey the demise of the last of the Dark Crows. In the shadows against the wall Hank took in the mans' professional attire. He inwardly sneered at the man's unstained hands which he could very well offered to have with all these men to do his bidding. The crew was nothing, easily replaceable - whom he wanted to suffer was the man standing before him now. Taking a step from the darkness Hank caught the man's attention. The Centipede reached for his own gun and took a few shots, none of which met their desired mark in Hank's flesh. So he continued to slowly advance.

"Who the hell are you?" the Centipede demanded, raising his gun again.

Without answering Hank charged taking the man off guard and knocking him backwards into the wall. Hank grabbed a hold of his victim's wrist and smashed it against the cement with as much force as he could manage until the gun was finally dropped and he could kick it away across the room. He then tossed the man to the floor, pinning him there with a foot to his throat. He would have liked to inflict more damage, beat him to death with his own bare hands, but he simply didn't have the strength. As it was, the only thing that kept him standing was adrenaline and a bitter stubbornness that demanded retribution.

"You should have picked someone else," he informed in a harsh whisper, raising the gun and taking a single shot at his last victim's head.

He could feel the spray of hot blood hit him in the chest. It was over - every last one of them was dead. With nothing motivating him now Hank felt as though the black abyss that had been pulling at him for some time now would finally win over. Still he stumbled back out the room and through the club. The rain was still coming down outside and as he splashed through the puddles along the sidewalk it occurred to him, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, that he didn't care about the rain and he didn't care that he didn't know where he was going. Finally he couldn't take another step and fell to the cold unforgiving cement, unable to move, struggling to even breath until blackness did take him.

_Dying doesn't seem so bad._


	2. Chapter 2

**Again the list of chaged names:**

Sanzo - Sam

Goku - Cody

Hakkai - Hank

Gojyo - Joe

Kannan - Hannah

Mindy - Yan Ming (not sure of spelling; she was the bee-lady from one episode)

**Chapter 2: Red Is The New Black**

Joe Shayne studied the cards before him and schooled his expression to show no emotion. He eyed the other men around the table, a heavy-set man still in a business suit and a regular he often played against. The latter wasn't very good, although, he seemed to think his luck would somehow miraculously turn around any day now. The other he had never seen before and it struck him as odd that he would still be wearing a suit despite the late hour and in a questionable part of the city, no less. The man's eyes kept shifting around the smoke infested outer back room and he was noticeably sweating.

A pair of lithe arms slipped around Joe's shoulders and he grinned as soft lips fastened themselves to his neck. He placed a few bills into the growing pile in the center of the table before taking a drag from his cigarette.

"It's getting late. I should get home to bed," she said, nuzzling his neck.

He smirked before replying, "You're not a kid anymore. You can stay up after dark."

"Come on Joe, it's past one and I've got to work tomorrow afternoon," she informed, slipping around him and settling herself onto his lap.

He took another drag from the cigarette then blew the smoke out and stubbed the butt into the ashtray, before capturing her lips with his own. He used his free hand to capture her around the waist and pull her closer, moving his lips from hers to drag down her neck and rest against the juncture between neck and shoulder.

She made a noise between a giggle and a moan, making him smile. But this time she pulled away, swatting him lightly against the arm.

"Oh you're impossible Joe. I'll see you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder, heading back toward the pulsing beat of the club.

Joe turned back to the game and noticed the man in the suit flick his gaze toward the doors of the back rooms - the bedrooms. Everyone one of them was the same – devoid of any furniture except a bed with graying sheets and two lumpy pillows, and a small table in the corner housing a lamp. Nothing more then four gray-blue walls, without so much as a window to break the prison feeling. There were only two reasons a person would dare go back there, for kicks or drugs.

_Wonder how Cody makes it back there all the time. _

The thought of Cody brought a feeling of guilt, swift and heavy. Even if he wasn't selling services, just the thought of the kid being in one of those rooms was enough to make him sick. The suit cast his gaze towards the row of doors again and Joe found he couldn't sit there any longer. He threw his cards down onto the table and without a word got up to leave.

He shouldn't have let Cody out of his site. It had occurred to him the second he had caught the hollow look in the kids eyes when some stranger had squeezed his shoulder and led him off to one of those back rooms. After what had happened a few weeks ago Joe could have kicked himself for not dragging Cody back to his apartment for a few months, like he had originally wanted. The stubborn brat wouldn't have any of that though. Shit, he just hoped the kid was all right. If he didn't come to the bar tomorrow Joe decided he would go down to his place after work. He just couldn't help worrying.

He finally broke through the crowd in the bar. Despite the late hour it was still swarming with gyrating bodies and the heavy stench of booze and smoke. Although, he didn't much mind it, it still came as a relief to step out into the fresh air of the night, even with it raining. He didn't much mind the rain either. It felt refreshing.

_Almost cleansing. _

He smirked at his own stupidity then flipped his collar up against the cold winds and began making his way back to his apartment. He'd never be clean of his sins, so long as he was breathing. He stood as a constant reminder of his fathers' infidelity. That had been why his mother kicked him out of the house at sixteen. In reality she had only been his stepmother and in all fairness to her she had waited almost a week after his father's heart attack before shipping him to the harsh reality of the streets.

He had been the result of his father's yearlong affair with a woman who hadn't made it through childbirth. That had been why he had to live with his father. The man had seen him as the perfect servant and had treated him as such until his death.

It struck him as funny that his stepmother had only put up with him because of his father, who, in truth, disliked Joe more than his wife had. Mind you she got her use out of him as well – slapping him around as if he were her own personal stress relief ball. Only his half-brother seemed to do any good in her eyes, so he hadn't been too disappointed to leave that sadistic hell behind.

Despite the fact that he only had a hundred dollars and a single backpack carrying every position he owned, he had managed quite well. He had been lucky enough to find a job as a waiter before all his meager savings had been spent, and got a place in an old motel that had been converted into an apartment complex. The place was simple, but he didn't need anything more then that. He didn't need anyone, not for help and sure as hell not for love.

_What about Mindy?_

He froze in his tracks at the thought of her name. He hadn't thought about her in a while. They had dated a few years back. She had, had a kid from a previous relationship who had been one at the time so Joe figured he'd be about three or four now. He had the cutest little kid smile and yeah Joe had loved him – both of them. He had toyed with the idea of proposing and starting a new life – one with a wife and kids and whatever else came with it – but that had been before she had come to him one night and said she was planning on getting back together with her ex for the baby's sake.

He knew it was for the best. The baby deserved to grow up with his real father. Besides, who was he kidding, he wasn't cut out for a settled down and serious life. She deserved better than what he had to offer and so he hadn't asked her to stay. It broke his heart to see her leave and he hadn't fallen in love since.

He shook his head at the memory and resumed his walk down the rain-slicked road. He made up his mind to pull out the picture he had of the two of them when he got home. Maybe he'd also take a look at the three scribbled drawings that had at one time been displayed proudly on his fridge and which now lay in a shoebox on the top shelf in his closet.

He froze again – this time not because of anything he had thought, but rather from having spotted a dark lump on the sidewalk before him. As he got closer, the dark lump slowly began to take the shape of a man. He was lying face down on the pavement surrounded by a dark puddle.

"Hey you okay?" Joe asked, pushing the guy's shoulder with his foot.

An almost inaudible groan escaped the man, but Joe heard it and so he crouched down to try and find out what was wrong with him. Just then the stranger opened his eyes and looked at him. Joe was taken aback for a moment by the absolute greenness of the twin orbs that looked up at him. They were so piercing that he got the sense that they were staring straight into his soul. Then they softened and it looked like the stranger was laughing before he closed his eyes again. Joe quickly snapped out of his stupor when he realized that the dark puddle around the stranger was red. He carefully turned him over and almost gagged at seeing the wound slicing across the guy's stomach. He needed to get him to a doctor before he bled to death, but he really had no way of doing that. He frantically looked up and down the street, but it was deserted. There was no life out except for the distant piercing sirens of cop cars and ambulances, rushing to the fires in the center of town.

Feeling the first nagging fingers of panic creep along his spine he picked the stranger up and began carrying him the last block home. Once they were out of the rain he could think of what to do next.

With some difficulty and a lot of awkwardness, Joe finally managed to deposit the guy on his bed then ran to the bathroom to fetch some towels. While pressing one to the guy's middle he noticed that he was also bleeding from a gunshot wound on his arm. It would take a miracle to keep the guy from dying. The stranger hadn't opened his eyes again and Joe was beginning to worry that maybe he was too late.

_Damn it all he needs a doctor!_

That's when it occurred to him that he had overheard that the old man in the apartments above him, at the end of the hall, used to be a doctor. At the very least he could sew up the stranger. He hoped that once they stopped the blood flow the guy would at least have a fighting chance at living. Not giving the idea another thought, Joe charged outside and up the metallic stairs at the end of the way. Not caring that it was really late and the guy would undoubtedly be sleeping, he began fervently pounding on the door.

"What the hell is going on out there?" an angry voice demanded as a light flipped on inside the apartment and the door was pulled open to reveal a small, furious face staring back at him. "What the hell do you want?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need your help," Joe quickly explained.

The man's beady eyes widened as they took in the bloodstains on Joe's front and hands. He quickly threw the door open wide, advancing on Joe as though he meant to tackle him to the ground and treat him on the spot.

"What happened?" the old man demanded, whipping out a pair of glasses from his bathrobe pocket.

"No it's not me," Joe quickly reassured him, wiping his blood stained hands over the front of his top. "This guy in my apartment. I found him bleeding on the street. He's in really bad shape and I need you to take a look at him."

The little old man rushed back into his apartment only to return seconds later with a black leather medical bag. Joe quickly led him down to his place and into the room with the stranger. He allowed the little doctor to command him around, getting warm water and alcohol and whatever else he needed. Then he stood back and watched, as he sewed up the stranger's stomach, all the while mumbling how he was lucky nothing vital had been hit.

"He's lucky the bullet went all the way through. This wound could have been a lot worse," the old man informed some time later as he went to work closing the arm wound.

It was hours before the two of them could sit in the kitchen, relaxing over a cup of coffee. The old doctor sat in one of the two chairs around the patio table Joe used in his kitchenette area, while he preferred to lean against the counter. The doctor removed his glasses with a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over his sunken eyes. Joe had noticed that the wrinkles around his eyes had been deepening as the hours passed, taking their toll on the old man. He should let him go back to bed now.

Joe drained the last of the dregs from his cup before turning to place it in the rusted sink.

"So how much do I owe you?" he asked, his voice sounding thick with sleep.

"Oh I won't charge you," the old doctor whispered back, pocketing his glasses. "That young man lost a lot of blood, you should probably take him to the hospital."

Joe considered the suggestion for a moment, but he knew he couldn't do that. Doctors had to report gunshot wounds and the stranger lying on his bed had two of them. He supposed he was an idiot for harboring a possible criminal, but he couldn't seem to shake the feeling he got from that brief look the stranger had given him. Something about the guy told Joe that he just wasn't a criminal, so he figured he could at least wait to hear the guy's story before potentially condemning him.

"I can't do that. He'll live won't he?"

"I don't know," the doctor answered truthfully. "You'll need to apply antiseptic to those cuts all over his chest at least once a day and keep his ribs bound up tight. I'll leave you all the gauze and tape I have," he continued, placing the supplies on the table before rising to leave.

Joe walked the man to the door before saying, "Thank you for all your help. If there's anything I can do to repay you…"

"Don't give it another thought," he replied with a smile. "I'll be by in a day or two to check on him," he called over his shoulder as he walked out into the grayness of the early morning hours.

The rain seemed to have subsided to a small drizzle, soon to wear itself out within the next hour or so. Still dark storm clouds hung overhead. It promised to be another shit day, overcast with a heavy chance of more rain.

With a sigh Joe shut the door behind him and as he stretched he surveyed his meager accommodations. The open room had nothing more in it than the metal lawn table, two plastic chairs and a sofa, albeit a very old and lumpy one. The Formica counter top in the kitchen was stained and cracked, as were both the sinks and fixtures in the kitchen as well as the bathroom. To its credit the place had two bedrooms – only one with any actual furniture in it – and the heating and water worked just fine. The paint job he had given the place still looked pretty good too.

With an exhausted sigh he sank down onto the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position in order to catch a few hours sleep. He had to be at work earlier tomorrow – or today, he figured, now that the sun was rising. His last thoughts before falling asleep were that he really shouldn't leave the stranger alone. It looked like he would have to bother the old doctor again and use up some of those vacation days he'd been accumulating over the years.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Send Me An Angel**

Sitting on a dumpster, for the most part protected from the rain by a fire escape landing, was a teenage boy. He dragged his sleeve across his face to wipe away the moisture, but it was really no use. He was soaked from head to toe after having been caught in the rain for three hours. He wished he had stayed home tonight rather than going down to the club as he usually did. His head felt as though a fog consumed it and he couldn't stop coughing and sniffling. On top of which there was a pain in his stomach so intense it felt as though someone had punched him, accompanied by the nauseating feeling of bile rising into the back of his throat.

Both symptoms he knew were caused by hunger. He hadn't eaten a proper meal all day due to the lack of food in his apartment, but he had been too lazy to go pick up some groceries. Now, as his stomach gave an annoying growl, he figured he had better get his ass down to the nearest shop before he passed out. It didn't look like the rain would be letting up any time soon and he knew he still had thirty-six dollars in his pocket so there was really no excuse to procrastinate any longer.

Coddy Sonnagh hopped off his perch into the puddle bellow him. Ignoring the sloshing feel of his steps, caused by the wetness of his shoes having soaked through, he began to make his way down the alley. He had reached the mouth of the dark passage when three men suddenly blocked his way. Before his fogged brain could even register that he needed to react he was pushed up against cold cement, his arms pinned beside his head by two of the three attackers. Cody didn't recognize any of them.

"Well aren't you a pretty thing?" one of the guy's smirked, stepping in front of the teen.

He captured Cody's chin in one hand, tilting his face from side to side as he inspected his features in the dim light provided by the distant street lamp.

"Look at these eyes," the man breathed out, amazed by the unnaturally golden orbs set in cat like eyes.

Cody jerked his face away and the man instantly let go, still enthralled in their strange beauty. Cody narrowed his eyes thinking now was as good a time as any to get away. He pulled his arms away from the wall a bit, testing the strength of the two pinning him down. They shoved back roughly and tightened their grips, squeezing bruises and cuts which had yet to heal. He fought back a groan of pain as the third guy finally broke from his trance and chuckled sadistically.

"Oh you're not going anywhere," he whispered in Cody's ear. "We're going to have some fun, the two of us."

His two cronies chuckled as he closed the little space that remained between him and Cody. That was the last straw. With one of the attackers still hanging onto his arm he dragged it off the wall and punched the man in front of him with enough force to knock him to the ground. He used his other hand, dragging that goon with him too, to deliver a blow to the first one's stomach, and then shoved his elbow back into the second one's gut. He turned back just in time to see a blade slashing through the air towards him and before his brain could process the danger, his arm had already flown up to take the blow in place of his head. A deep gash split him from wrist to elbow as a cry rang out up and down the alley. He wasn't aware that it had been him that called out or that tears now streamed down his face, mixing with the cold rain.

His head was now spinning really badly and the bile was rising again. First he thought he might throw up then he worried that he might pass out.

_I have to get rid of them first._

The thought had no sooner formed then Cody saw all three men run off down the alley. As his vision blurred and he fell to his knees, he suddenly became aware of a pair of sure-footed steps coming toward him. He looked up and caught sight of a man with a golden halo around his head and his body framed by the glow of the street lamp.

"An angel?" he mumbled.

_Am I dying?_

The last thing he remembered was his face hitting the cold wet ground before the world of darkness he had become very familiar with overtook him.

* * *

Slowly the black abyss subsided and Cody became aware of something soft and warm surrounding him in place of cold wet cement. Another moment and pain, hot and fierce, was coursing through his right arm. He bit off a moan and opened his eyes, then was forced to wait a few seconds for them to focus before he could take in his surroundings. He rose up on his left elbow and looked around him. He was in a room, dark and relatively empty it seemed, without so much as a window and with the door shut tight.

_A bed. I'm in a bed!_

Panic came swiftly causing him to jerk upright. He cried out softly as the pain in his arm hit him full force and the bile rose so far into his throat to the point where he could taste it on his tongue. His vision swam again and he fell back against the pillow, his breath coming in hard pants. That's when he realized that his movements weren't being restricted. He raised his injured arm in front of his face to see that the sleeve of his sweat top had been cut off and stitches ran down the length of his forearm.

"Took seventy-seven to close you up," a voice said, making him jerk in surprise. He hadn't heard the door open, let alone someone coming in.

"Huh?" he asked, turning his head to see who had been talking.

A middle-aged woman in blue scrubs stood in the doorway, a clipboard resting against her side and her piercing brown gaze directed squarely at him. Cody lowered his arm to his chest and squirmed uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

She nodded towards his arm and repeated, "It took seventy-seven stitches to close you up. You'll probably have a nice scar, but that won't be anything new for you now will it?

Her tone was harsh and somewhat sarcastic and it made him drop his gaze to the raw flesh on his wrist. It was surrounded by an assortment of cuts, bruises and old scars, just like the rest of him. She probably thought most of them were self-inflicted; the cuts certainly looked to be. He hadn't meant for anyone else to see them and this woman, who was clearly a nurse, would have been the last person he would have showed had he wanted to. He felt a sense of panic return again, this time for a whole new set of reasons.

"Where…where am I?" he mumbled, still not looking at the nurse who was now approaching his bed.

"Sacred Heart hospital. You've been here for the past two hours," she replied, her tone still sounding harsh. "A man brought you in. A detective. Do you know him?"

A vague image of a blonde man popped into his head. The guy had saved him from his three attackers so he figured he must have been the one to bring him here as well. He couldn't help squirming a bit again. No one did something like what the stranger had done and not expect something in return.

To the nurse he shook his head and mumbled, "No…"

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest before demanding, "So what happened?"

He wanted to squirm again under that brown gaze, but he held back this time. He continued to look her in the eyes as he explained his story so that she wouldn't suspect him of lying. He knew that she must already think the blonde was abusing him and didn't want to risk having the police called in and cause trouble for the other man, let alone the trouble they would cause for him.

"I was…attacked by these three men. I guess they wanted to...mug me...or something. He just helped me out."

She sighed and pursed her lips again, "Yeah that's what he said too. Not all that damage is from tonight though."

He looked down at his arm again, hating what he saw.

"Yeah well I was attacked a few weeks ago too, but I've really never met that man before in my life. Can I please go?"

"Sure we're not holding you. The blonde's already paid for your medical expenses so you'll just have to come back in two weeks to have those stitches removed. Oh and I almost forgot," she reached into her pocket and pulled out a granola bar, which she tossed to him. "Eat that. You're malnurished and starving, it's the reason you passed out. I personally think you should stay here for a few days and recover before your condition gets worse."

Cody almost shuddered at the thought before fisting the sheets and replying, "No! Please I just want to go home...can't I just..."

Clearly frustrated the nurse just threw her hands into the air, shook her head and sighed, "Do what you want, like I said: no one is holding you."

He sat silently, eating the snack with gratitude, as she gave him a few more instructions, bandaged his arm and made him fill out medical forms. The whole time, though, his mind was focused on the blonde stranger, whom he had never met. Not only had the guy saved him, but he had paid his bill too. They hadn't even spoken to each other so Cody couldn't fathom why he would do such a thing.

_Unless he's after me too…to get to it…_

Whatever the case, all he knew was that he wanted to get out of there quickly before the blonde showed up. So the moment the nurse was done with him he quickly made his way over to the elevators. He didn't run into the blonde as he made his way down the hall and before he knew it he was back out in the rain. His stomach was turning over with hunger again by the time he reached the parking lot. He needed food in him before he fainted again, or worse, landed himself back in the hospital. With a sigh he began down the sidewalk towards home.

Although the walk home was long, it passed by in a blur. Unaware of everything Cody made his way along the sidewalk, not once looking up until he reached the grocers just down the street from his apartment. He blinked in surprise, mildly curious about how he had managed to get that far and not even know it, but he quickly pushed away the foggy thoughts and stepped into the store.

It was empty except for the old clerk at the cash, who barely looked up in acknowledgement to his presence. Cody quickly grabbed a cart and went to get the few supplies he needed. A box of cereal, a lot of canned spaghetti–type things and a few packets of soup cups. Nothing extravagant – he simply went for meals that were cheap and quick and if they tasted good then he considered himself lucky.

As an afterthought he decided to grab a liter of milk and a bottle of aspirin. His arm and wrists were beginning to sting fiercely and by the time he had carried the two bags up to his apartment he was ready to scream from the pain, due to the prolonged pressure on his wrists. While he desperately just wanted to pop two pills and pass out on the couch he forced himself to stay awake long enough to eat one of the ravioli cans.

He sat down on the couch, the only seat aside from the floor in his place, and contemplated the change fanned out before him on the coffee table. Four dollars and seventeen cents was all he had left for the week. The few hundred dollars that he had saved up, and which was presently hidden in a zip-lock bag inside the tower of his toilet, would all be gone after he paid his rent tomorrow. He supposed if he got desperate he could go down to the club early and make a few quick bucks, but he really hadn't wanted to do that.

_Damn! I'm screwed if I do and I'm screwed if I don't. Life is sick._

The thought left him in a bitter mood so rather than focus on it any longer, he pulled his thin blue blanket over himself and curled up on the sofa. In seconds he had fallen asleep to the familiar sounds of the distant sirens and not so distant shouts.

* * *

The familiar pull of hunger dragged Cody from his dreamless sleep and, although, he would have liked nothing more then to turn over and go back to sleep he simply couldn't ignore the feeling. He slowly made his way to the bathroom first and caught a look at his reflection in the dull, rusted mirror. He decided that he looked about as bad as he felt. His face was looking sunken and pale and his eyes were glassed over and dull. He had yet to make up the weight that he had lost a few weeks ago and as a result his clothes hung on him awkwardly and more loosely then before. His ragged appearance brought back memories of the past few weeks – memories he would rather forget. So he quickly pushed away from the mirror and went into the kitchen for some food.

* * *

By five o'clock Cody was feeling restless. Not being able to stand the solitude of his apartment any longer, he made his way down to the club. Although it was early, there was still a decent crowd and the steady techno beat pulsed out through the speakers. He found a seat at the bar then turned back to look, unseeingly, towards the dace floor. He didn't hear Joe calling him and almost jumped out of his seat when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Cody grabbed the offensive fingers and turned around, his head spinning in protest to his quick movements.

"Cody it's me, Joe," his friend said as he stood waiting for the dizziness to pass.

"Joe?"

He released his grip on the hand and watched as Joe flexed his fingers, hearing the tiny cracks.

"Damn that hurt. What the hell are you on?"

"Nothin', " he mumbled. "Can you get me a drink?"

Joe eyed him curiously before placing a cola in front of him. Cody didn't like the scrutiny and kept his eyes from Joe as he reached for the cool drink. The club was feeling a lot warmer then usual. He jerked again when Joe suddenly reached out and captured his wrist in a tight grip, yanking up the sleeve to reveal the white bandages around his new stitches.

"What the hell is this?" the bartender demanded.

Cody tried to pull his arm back but Joe wouldn't let go.

"Nothing," he replied again, but his friend wasn't buying it. "Got into a fight last night. Hospital took care of everything 'k."

He wasn't feeling so good. He decided coming to the club was a bad idea and he just wanted to leave. He yanked his arm again and finally got it loose from Joe's grasp.

"In a fight with who, Cody?" Joe asked.

He slipped off the stool and began making his way to the doors. It was starting to rain again.

"Cody! Who did you get in a fight with?" Joe called after him desperately, but he didn't answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Komyo Sanzo – Colton Genet

Kanzeon Bosatsu – Cameron Bosa

**Chapter 4: Handguns And Second Chances**

Sam Genet sat in the middle of his darkened living room, looking out the window at the rain . He hated the rain more then anything. Whenever something bad happened in his life it always rained. Now he hated it for the memories it brought with it. He took another drag of his cigarette and tried to keep his mind devoid of any thought. For the most part he had always been pretty good at repressing the old memories but tonight they seemed determined to break loose.

He watched as a little kid ran across the street in the park, splashing in puddles with his bright yellow rain boots that matched his coat and hat. Seconds later, what Sam assumed was a father followed, dressed in a brown trench coat and carrying an umbrella. Sam watched the two for a moment allowing a few thoughts of the man he considered a father to leak through his barrier.

At thirteen his parents had died in a car accident leaving him in the care of social workers that shipped him from home to home. He hadn't had any delusions that he would be adopted at that age but when he was fifteen he had ended up in the care of Colton. Surprisingly enough the man had adopted him, raised him like his own and had even left him everything when he died.

_FLASHBACK_

The rain was coming down so thick Sam could scarcely see anything through the windshield. They were crawling along at an annoyingly slow pace, but he knew it was too dangerous to speed up. Even though his birthday had passed two weeks ago, Colton insisted on taking him out to dinner to celebrate. He couldn't get away from school earlier and hence the delay. But even now that he had managed to clear his evening for this, he still felt he had to get back to the campus as soon as possible.

"Sam you work too hard," Colton said suddenly, looking over at Sam once they stopped at a red light.

"Why do you say that?" he mumbled looking out the passenger window.

He knew what his father was going to say.

"Look at you. I can see the thoughts spinning through your mind. Homework, projects, and work…it's your birthday will you relax. Everything will be there tomorrow."

"It's not actually my birthday," he replied with a smirk, turning to his father.

"You only turn eighteen once Sam, let's just enjoy the night."

But the night, it seemed, was never meant to be enjoyed. Just as the light changed and they were pulling away, a car came racing up the intersection. It passed through a red light and collided head on with the driver's side of their car. Colton turned the wheel in a desperate attempt to avoid the third car beside them and they ended up slipping on the slick roads, sending the car rolling and landing up side down in the gutter.

_END FLASHBACK_

Sam shook his head, dispelling the memory. He hadn't thought of that night in a long time. While he had walked away with a minor concussion and some bumps and bruises, both drivers of the cars had died. He went to take another drag of his cigarette and saw that it had burned into nothing more than a stub. He hadn't realized he had been lost in thought for that long. Crushing it into the ashtray beside him he reached for his pack to grab another only to find that he had run out. He looked back out the window where the rain was coming down as hard as ever, not showing any signs that it intended to let up soon. He cursed low and pushed to his feet, heading for the front door.

As much as he hated the thought of walking out in the rain he hated not having his cigarettes even more. Stepping out in the cold wetness he cursed again and flipped up the collar on his coat. He had quite a walk ahead of him because he was so choosy of his brands and he only knew of one store that carried the ones he liked.

_Damn I should have brought an umbrella._

When he reached the store he quickly purchased two cartons and lit one up right away. Despite the rain he stood outside the small convenience store and savored the smoke. That's when he noticed a fight, taking place across the street. Some thugs had a kid pinned against the wall in an alley. He considered just walking away, getting the hell out of the rain and back home, but knew he could never do that. He took a step toward the group then froze in surprised as the kid actually managed to fight off all three attackers.

_Damn he's strong._

Just then, though, one of the thugs pulled out a knife and slashed at the kid, who let loose a cry that seemed to pierce Sam straight to his very soul. The thug raised the knife again, ready to strike and so he quickly walked across the street to stop him. At the sound of his footsteps the three men ran down the alley, leaving the kid to drop to his knees.

When he came to a stop the kid looked up at him and mumbled, "An angel?"

Sam jerked back at the question then smirked.

_An angel? Hell kid I'm the farthest thing from._

He looked back down, noting that the kid had passed out and that his arm was bleeding profusely. Kneeling down to examine the injury he noted at once that stitches would be need. The closest hospital was a good twenty minutes away, at least, and with all the trouble of the fires they were bound to be busy, but still he had no choice. He flagged down a cab, carried the kid into the backseat and instructed the driver to take them to Sacred Heart.

With all the detours they needed to take in order to avoid the fires, it ended up taking them forty-five minutes. Just as he expected, the place was bustling with activity. It was almost five minutes before he managed to flag down a nurse, but she quickly sent for a gurney to retrieve the kid from the back seat of the cab and they were sent up to the second floor where the activity was considerably less hectic.

* * *

"Sir we need you to fill out these medical forms," a young nurse informed him holding out a clipboard.

"I don't know him, I just found him like that," he informed and she immediately tucked the papers back under her arm.

"Listen," he told her as an afterthought, "I'm a detective and I'd like to talk to that patient when he wakes up. You got that?"

She nodded quickly and took off back to the nurse's station. For a moment he stood there, wondering why he had told her that, then he finally made his way down the hall to the to the small waiting area to sit with the other two families there. Before long, though, the other families left and the yellow tinted florescent lights fell only on the slouched figure of the blond. The heavy silence was broken only by the distant voices and footsteps of the nursing staff and the annoying buzzing caused by one of the flickering lights overhead.

Sam checked his watch again. It had almost been two hours since he brought the kid in but he still had yet to be informed that the brat had woken up. With a frustrated sigh he scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble graze his palm. He didn't know why any of this mattered to him so much. Couldn't even fathom why he would have gone as far as to pay for the medical bills. He tried to tell himself that it was just plain curiosity and not because of the pathetic look a pair of golden eyes had cast his way.

_Damn I could really use a smoke._

He tried to shake off the need. While a cancer stick would have been nice, he didn't want to step away from the room for too long. Just a few minutes longer, though, and his eyes began to burn with the strain of being awake too long, and he couldn't suppress a yawn. Working the kinks out of his neck, Sam cast a glance down the hallway. Still no sign of life came from within the room so he stood up and made his way down the opposite hall to the cafeteria. He had learned the hard way that the coffee machine in the waiting room was out of order, and while he could go without a cigarette for a while longer, he desperately needed a caffeine fix.

He was ready to curse in frustration as he next glanced down at his watch and realized that it had taken him over fifteen minutes to obtain the mediocre brew. He had been forced to wait through one delay after another from the incompetent woman in charge for the night, on top of having to wait in a line quite long considering the time and just previously having felt that the hospital had been relatively empty. If he hadn't needed that damn coffee so badly he would have abandoned the idea of getting one from the start.

Casting a tired glance down the hall once more, Sam started when he saw that the door to the room he had been waiting on stood ajar and a soft glow emanated from within. He quickly made his way over only to freeze in the threshold at spotting the bed empty and neatly made, with the young nurse standing beside it balling up the used linens.

_What the hell?_

"Where's the boy that was here?" he demanded, not bothering to hold back any force from his tone.

"Oh detective, I'm so sorry," the nurse quickly said, worrying her lower lip. "One of the other nurses said he had woken up and let him leave. I just stepped away for a moment. I had no idea he was gone till a moment ago."

She looked on the brink of tears so Sam quickly reassured her that it was no matter. While it was unfortunate, at least it wasn't interfering with one of his cases.

"How was he allowed to leave anyways? Doesn't he need a parent or guardian to come get him?"

"Well sir, he was nineteen."

_What the...?_

He left the nurse to finish her job and made his way back down to the hospital lobby and took a cab home. He decided it wasn't worth the effort to stay awake any longer and so he only took a few minutes to set up the coffee machine, for when he woke up, before falling into bed. In his few hours of fitful sleep he was wracked with images of pleading gold eyes and a kid being attacked. It came as a relief when he was finally pulled from sleep by the insistent ringing of the phone.

With a groan he rolled over to grab the receiver and mumbled, "What?"

"Don't you ever answer the phone properly?" came the nagging voice of Cameron Bosa, the chief of police.

"I swear I'll hang up," he barked in response.

"Well that'll be a shame since I have quite the case for you."

He sat up in bed, his interest now annoyingly peaked. "What is it?"

Cameron laughed softly, knowing she had him now, before replying, "Meet me and I'll explain everything."

She rattled off an address, which he quickly copied before hanging up. With a sigh Sam got out of bed and dressed quickly, before heading to the kitchen. While he may have been quick to get up, he took his time to sit at the table and read the paper while he had his cup of coffee. He refused to have his life dictated by the beck and call of a vixen like Cameron Bosa. However, despite the fact that the sky looked gray and it was bound to rain he did opt to take his black Mercedes as oppose to walking down to the subway as he normally would. Ever since the accident that killed Colten he hated driving and only owned a car for the convinience, but refrained from driving whenever possible.

Now he drove slowly to the inner city commercial district and followed the address to the blackened remains of a building, which Cameron stood in front of, impatiently waiting with her arms crossed and her foot tapping out an incessant beat. He ignored her as he slipped from the drivers' side and looked up at the destruction displayed before them. The charred brick and sloppy remnants from the efforts to prevent the fire all led Sam to the compulsion that this had simple been a target of the Dark Crows the other night.

"It's clearly a hit from last night, Bosa. What's the mystery?" he demanded his anger rising at having been called out for something so trivial when it was going to rain; all the while holding a hint of confusion that the police department would call him in, paying him twice his average salary simply for his assistance, when they could clearly handle the case on their own.

"You'll see," she replied as she pursed her lips and spun on her heal to lead him down a side alley.

They came upon a broken corps surrounded by a drying pool of blood that had thinned and spread with the rain. Sam approached the body; first noticing the arm, twisted at an odd angle, the smashed skull where the victim's head clearly hit the pavement and the bruises around his neck in the form of a handprint. It had clearly been a male hand, which suggested a fight prior to death. He then noted the undone button and zipper on the man's jeans. His shirt was completely done up with the exception of the first two buttons and his shoelaces were still tied – it had all the signs of a quick coupling.

"Does he live here?" Sam asked getting up from his crouch and moving to inspect the window that the victim had been unfortunate enough to fall out of.

"Not that we can tell. He's one of the Dark Crows you know and there's another three of them upstairs along with a victim in the bed," Cameron replied stepping up beside him. "Also as far as the fire department can tell this fire was a result of candles."

Sam frowned at this added news. He knew just as well as Cameron that the Dark Crows worked with explosives, candles meant that this was a result of something else.

"Maybe they were caught by the husband," he suggested.

The fire escape was down so someone must have used it, which then brought up the question of what had prevented the victim from doing so.

"I won't even ask how you came to that deduction," Cameron told him as she made her way back to the mouth of the alley. "Oh by the way, the rest of the Dark Crow gang and the Centipede turned up dead this morning. Seems someone shot them all last night, a real blood bath."

At Cameron's words Sam felt his eyes widen in surprise before he schooled his expression back to that of a passive one.

"Really," he mumbled, wondering if that had something to do with what had happened here.

"Well there are just enough clues to make this interesting, but no less impossible to solve, so naturally I knew you'd enjoy it," Cameron called as she walked away. "You have the full deposal of anything you need and I'll send some guys over if you need any extra hands."

Sam was about to walk up the fire escape to check out the room when someone else called to him. He turned to see a little old lady standing at the mouth of the alley waving a newspaper clipping at him.

"Oh detective I have something to show you."

He walked over to her and tried to gather his patience as he asked, "Yes, what is it?"

"There was a young girl that lived in that apartment over there," she said pointing at the one on the sixth floor with the broken window. "Do you know if she's all right?"

Sam thought of the body in the bed that Cameron had mentioned, but found that he couldn't tell the old woman that he suspected the girl was dead, and so he simply shook his head.

"Look they wrote an article about her and this is her picture right here, so you'll know what she looks like when you find her."

If she was found he figured her body would be too burned to be able to identify her simply by sight, but he accepted the paper the woman offered.

"Do you remember her name?" he asked.

The woman shook her head. "No I've never been good with names I'm afraid, but she was a sweet girl. Her boyfriend was a sweet man too and very handsome. He had the most lovely green eyes and brown hair."

This news sparked Sam's interest. The man lying dead on the pavement behind him clearly wasn't the boyfriend if this woman was to be trusted. He had fire red hair which could in no way been interpreted as brown. It seemed his theory was becoming more plausible.


	5. Chapter 5

Part of this chapter was inspired by Gravitation.

Two men – Homera's minions.

**Chapter 5: Don't Look Back In Anger**

It was almost an hour till the end of his shift before Joe finally managed to get someone to replace him. The moment he saw the man come through the door he grabbed his jacket and fought his way from the club, ignoring the calls from the group of girls that had been waiting for him. He couldn't help envisioning the worst as he made his way down to Cody's apartment.

It hadn't been so long ago that he had been wracked with the same feeling of guilt and worry. He couldn't live with himself if something happened to Cody again. He shuddered as the memories of a week ago rushed back to mind.

FLASHBACK

Despite the late hour Joe was still awake and reading on the sofa when the phone rang.

He blindly reached out for the receiver and answered, "Hello?"

"Joe…can you come get me?" a hoarse voice croaked out on the other line.

"Cody is that you? Where the hell are you?" he demanded, instantly sitting bolt upright.

He hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, but he had really been worried when the teen went missing over three weeks ago without so much as a word. He had looked everywhere but to no avail and had decided that if Cody didn't turn up soon he'd go to the police station to file a missing person's report.

"The pay phone…down your street," came the whispered reply.

Joe wanted to yell at him to get his ass over to his place rather then waist his time going to the pay phone, but something in the strained reply stopped him. He knew instantly something was wrong if Cody couldn't walk the two minutes to his apartment. His fears where realize when a sniff traveled through the line before a clinking sound echoed as though the phone had been dropped.

"Don't move Cody, I'll be right there," he yelled before slapping the phone down and running out of the house.

He found Cody kneeling on the floor in the phone booth, tears streaming down his bruised face. His clothes were tattered and dirty…and streaked with blood. When he looked up at him, Joe instantly noticed that, through the tears, Cody's eyes were more hollow then he'd ever seen them. He dropped to his knees beside the teen, who reached his hand out to fist around his sleeve. Joe pulled him closer and with a moan Cody instantly grabbed him in a desperate hug and cried onto his shoulder. Joe fell back onto the hard cement of the sidewalk and cradled the boy, whose body shook with violent shudders as his pain-filled soul shattered.

END FLASHBACK

He broke into a run till he reached the apartment and charged up the four flights of stairs two at a time. He was panting for air by the time he came to the door at the end of the hall. Joe tried the handle only to find it locked. He slammed his fist against the old wood, paint chips flying off with his roughness.

"Cody if you're in there you better open this damn door!" he yelled as loud as he could, getting angry complaints from the neighbors.

When there came no answer he fished in his wallet for a credit card and worked it between the fame of the door and the lock until it clicked open. The place had the width of a hall way and no place to hide. The bathroom was empty as was the couch and the small kitchenette. He didn't think Cody had taken off though because the backpack he kept his clothes in was still lying on the floor by the couch and two bags of groceries still sat on the counter.

_Damn where is he?_

* * *

Cody fell onto the nearest park bench. It was starting to rain harder and he was cold straight to the bones but his muscles felt as though they had been injected with led and he was drowning. He couldn't move – not another step.

_Damn it I should have gone home._

He stared unseeingly as a black sports car pulled up to the curb in front of him and two men stepped out. They stood before him for a moment as if waiting for something then the one closest to him stepped forward and smirked. The look the man gave him felt unsettling and somewhere at the back of his mind he heard a voice begin to call out to him that he needed to run now.

"Long time to no see Cody," the redhead whispered the words like a threat.

_Who are they?_

He continued to sit, watching them with a puzzled look; still unable to detect the risk they posed.

"Come on now, don't tell us you don't remember who we are?" he smirked, elbowing his partner, a slim man with shades and prematurely graying hair.

An image crept swiftly and unbidden into Cody's mind.

FLASHBACK

He was strapped down to a bed in a dark and damp room, where the only thing he could see was the sadistic face of a demon worse than the devil himself, hovering above him, and the only thing he could feel was an all consuming pain and the hopelessness of knowing he would never be rescued. The one time he had twisted his head away in the mist of the sheer torture being inflicted on him he had caught sight of the two goons watching in the shadows.

END FLASHBACK

Cody's eyes widen in sudden recognition, making the man closest to him laugh. He was close enough to reach out and grab him now. Reacting on instinct Cody clumsily leaped over the back of the bench and began running deeper into the park. The two men followed and in his state he knew he could never outrun them. His best hope of escape was to make it to the residential street on the other side of the park and pray that someone was out today.


	6. Chapter 6

Soren – Homura (it was better then Homer)

**Chapter 6: Smashed Into Pieces**

Sam had just reached the gate before his house when the splashing of heavy footsteps distracted him. He turned towards the park just as someone broke through the tree line and began running down the muddy path. He was about to dismiss the whole situation as some deranged jogger when he realized that it was the kid from the other night. The height and brown hair may have been indistinct, but even at his distance the golden eyes were unmistakable. That's when he noticed the two men chasing him. They were too far back and it was too dark to make out what they looked like but he was willing to bet they weren't the same one's who attacked before.

The kid tripped, landing hard on his hands and knees in the mud. Sam waited for him to get back to his feet, but the teen didn't. He stayed as he had fallen, panting hard from running what had probably been a long time. With an exasperated sigh, Sam crossed the street. He noted that the closer he got, the further back the other two retreated. When he came to a stop, the kid looked up at him and his eyes looked strangely empty and glassed over. And once again he was soaked straight through.

"It's you," the kid mumbled.

Sam figured a hot shower and warm meal would do the kid a world of good, so he extended his hand down to him and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on, you're coming with me," he said, practically dragging the kid with him across the street.

The kid didn't object, but he didn't move either, making the short walk harder than it should have been. He waited silently on the porch as Sam unlocked the door then had to be pushed inside. They stood silently in the front hall for a moment, Sam surveying his young charge, who hadn't looked up from the ground since he had been picked up off of it.

He supposed he should stop calling him a kid since he knew he was nineteen but any way he looked at him he still looked no older than sixteen. He just made it to Sam's shoulder, his hair was out-grown and hanging in wet streaks around his face, which looked too pale. His eyes, naturally wide, sort of went into an almond shape at the tips. The strange setting accentuated their strange coloring but at the same time they made it impossible to miss the empty, almost soulless look portrayed in their golden depths.

"Che," he grunted.

The kid was muddying up his clean floors.

"Well lets hurry up and get you into the shower before you ruin all my bloody floors," he growled.

It occurred to him that the kid sort of caught his breath at his words but Sam didn't really care so long as he continued to allow him to lead him up the stairs. No way was he going to let the kid track mud all over his house. It was bad enough that he'd be stuck cleaning the stairs and entryway. Sam gave him one last push into the bathroom then allowed him to silently stand in the center of the room as he went about finding towels and the like.

"I'll find you some dry clothes to change into," he mumbled.

Sam didn't leave the room right away, though. He waited for the briefest of moments for some sign of life from the kid. Although, he didn't look up, Sam thought he gave a small jerk of his head and so he walked back down the hall to his room. He searched through his drawers, hoping to find something small enough to fit the boy. It was not an easy task as the kid was at least two sizes smaller and shorter than he was, but he finally settled on a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt. The jeans looked like they might be small enough – they hadn't fit him in years, but he had never got around to throwing them out – and the shirt was a close fit on him so he figured it wouldn't be too loose on the boy.

Satisfied with his findings he headed back down to the bathroom, instantly aware that he didn't hear the water running. He pushed the door open, exasperated to find that the kid still hadn't moved. He just continued to stand as before, only now he was noticeably shivering. His blue tinged lips quivered with the chattering of teeth.

With an angry growl Sam commanded, "What the hell are you waiting for you idiot? Get in the shower already."

The kid visibly shuddered at his command, taking him back.

_What the hell does he think? That I'm going to stand here and watch him?_

Sam dumped the clothes on the counter before turning back around to leave. Just before closing the door he caught the confused and uncertain look in the golden eyes aimed his way. Not for the first time he felt a sense of curiosity toward the kid. He supposed he could be threatening, but it hadn't been anything he'd done or even said that put that haunted look in the kids' eyes. Which brought him to wondering who those men were that had been chasing him and what they could possibly want with a kid.

"Put those on when you're done," he said, nodding towards the clothes and trying his hardest to keep the commanding tone out of his voice. "Bring your things down too and I'll throw them into the wash."

He didn't wait for a response this time, just shut the door and went down to the kitchen to see what he could make them. Sam had just placed a pot of stew on to reheat when he finally heard the running water of the shower. He sighed – wondering what he had gotten himself into by worrying about the kid – and took a seat at the table with the paper. He didn't want to care about whether the kid had a place to stay or if he had family and he sure as hell didn't want to get mixed up in whatever had two goons chasing the boy through a park on a shit rainy day. He didn't need the added headache. Or so he thought until he spotted the kid entering the kitchen out of the corner of his vision and noticed his arms.

When the kid handed over the soaking lump to Sam's outstretched hands, he noticed that on top of the stitches, which ran from wrist to elbow on the kid's right arm, he was also covered in bruises, scratches and scars that hadn't been caused by the other night. What concerned him the most were the handprint shaped bruise above the wrist on his left arm and the raw cuts on both wrists. Although, the skin had begun to heal and was framed by marks that had clearly been left over from stitches, the damage looked as though it had been caused from being bound up.

The kid didn't seem to care that his injuries were so visible and when Sam looked up to search his face, it occurred to him that the kid didn't seem fully conscious of anything. He chose not to comment just then and instead walked to the laundry room just off the kitchen to set the machine.

When he returned to the kitchen he found the kid sitting in the chair opposite the one he had been occupying. He stood in the doorway, again watching him. He was willing to bet the bruises covered more area then just his arms. The possibilities that came to mind were really irking him, but even more annoying was that he did not know what had caused the damage to the kid's wrists.

He was thrown from his reverie when the kid shuddered then turned around to give him a hesitantly trusting look through the emptiness of his gaze. The emptiness disturbed Sam more than he was willing to admit and so he turned away to serve them both the stew.

"What's your name kid?" he asked, again trying to keep the sharp edge from his tone.

It wasn't easy considering he tended to naturally snap at everyone.

"Cody," he heard the kid mumble through a stifled cough.

Sam didn't press for a last name, just placed the two bowls on the table and sat back down.

After a long silent pause Cody asked, "What about you?"

"What about me, what?" Sam asked looking up from his paper, a spoon full of stew hovering halfway to his mouth.

"Your name. What is it?" Cody asked, looking up at him.

"Sam," he answered back simply, noting that the kid hadn't touched his food yet and his face looked flushed.

Sam dropped his spoon back down into the bowl and narrowed his eyes at the boy. It had been a while since his shower so his body temperature should have gone back down. Then he caught the kid sniffle and began to worry.

"Why aren't you eating?" he demanded, not carrying that his tone made Cody cringe again.

"I'm not hungry," Cody, replied, his sentence ending in a pretty bad coughing fit.

_Shit._

Sam was about to demand why Cody hadn't told him sooner that he wasn't feeling well when the teen got up and mumbled, "I have to go."

Sam stood too and grabbed Cody's arm to stop him, eliciting a whimper from the boy as he undoubtedly hit bruises. He released his grip instantly and instead placed a hand across Cody's forehead. He was really burning up.

Cody broke from Sam's touch and turned to hang on the table as his body was wracked with a fierce coughing fit that robbed him of all his strength and nearly made him pass out. Before he did, however, Sam grabbed him into his arms and carried him upstairs to his spare bedroom. He didn't have a choice anymore; he'd have to be stuck with the kid until he got better. As he adjusted Cody in his arms he realized that despite the kid's height and age, he weighed next to nothing.

Placing him over the clean sheets in the unused room he looked down at the boy and mumbled, "Idiot," before leaving to find some cough syrup. He returned to find Cody sleeping on his side, curled into himself, and woke him up just enough to force a spoon full of the medicine down his throat. Then Sam sat down on the bed beside him, once again silently watching. The jeans he had lent Cody hung loosely around his hips and where the shirt pulled up slightly Sam could see more bruises, at least one of which was in the form of another handprint. There was also a sea of red scars around his waistline – small circular bumps of flesh that had just begun healing and which resembled a series of explosions…or cigarettes.

Sam pulled up his own sleeve till it revealed a similar scar. He could very well imagine what the youth had gone through but he hoped he was wrong. For Cody's sake he hoped he was wrong.

FLASHBACK

His view of the cracked and water-stained ceiling was abruptly replaced with the crazed smiling face of his captor. Cody tried to pull away, but only managed to dig his wire restraints further into the cuts on his wrists, making them bleed again. Fresh blood trickled down his arms in sticky streaks, and it would have tickled if he weren't so out of his mind with fear.

"Now, now Cody you don't want to hurt yourself, do you?" Soren reprimanded in his psychotic child-like tone.

Cody couldn't suppress the grunt of pain that came automatically to his lips, when Soren straddled his stomach, his weight crushing him further into the old mattress. He shuddered when he felt the man's hot breath on his ear and cold clammy hands slipped up his arms to smear the drops of spilled crimson.

"I know you want your freedom Cody," Soren taunted in his ear. "You can have it back just as soon as you tell me where you hid that package."

Despite the pain it caused, Cody fought against his restrains and the restrictive weight on his torso. Anger flashed through Soren's eyes at his actions and in a quick movement the man sat up and fisted his hand around the waistband of Cody's jeans. Cody's breath was coming in hard pants now in an effort to keep the tears, which clouded his vision, at bay.

With his free hand, Soren reached into his pocket and retrieved a cigarette and lighter. Cody bit down on his lower lip, struggling in earnest now. With a childish laugh Soren slowly began undoing the button and zipper of Cody's pants.

"Come now, it'll all stop if you just tell your secret," he whispered, taking the lit cigarette from his lips to hold between his index and thumb.

A moment of silence passed between them before the same look of anger crossed Soren's eyes once more. Using quick movements again, he yanked Cody's jeans down to expose the flesh of his lower stomach and pressed the burning butt of the cigarette against him. Cody instantly let out a scream through parched lips and compressed lungs. Calling with all his might for someone - anyone - to help him. But as always no one came and Soren continued to laugh as he reveled in the torture he inflicted.

"That's right, Cody, scream. The louder the better," he called maniacally over the cries.

Cody thrashed violently to get away from the ever increasingly familiar pain as unchecked tears streamed down his face and the stench of burning flesh filled the room once again. Even after the butt was released from his skin he still couldn't control himself. He continued to thrash, not carrying that his wrists were splitting wide open, until Soren was finally forced to get off of him.

"You'll give it up sooner or later, Cody," Soren whispered, leaning over the side of the bed till he was a breath away from his victim's ear. "It would be better for you to talk sooner while you still have a chance at walking out of here alive. My patience is wearing thin."

With these last words Cody was once again left alone. As always after a punishment, he was filled with a hopeless sense of loneliness and utter despair. No one would rescue him. Nothing was sacred or precious anymore. His body had been tainted, violated and marked all for the sake of keeping a promise to someone who had long since died and would never know the difference anyways.

He continued to cry until the soul wracking sobs calmed into desperate moans and then subsided into gasping breaths. A dark numbness overtook his body and when his weak form was too exhausted to withstand life any longer he dropped into a deep blackness, but even through his exhaustion induced sleep the tears still continued to flow.

END FLASHBACK


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: The Weak And The Wounded**

Joe leaned in the doorway, eyeing the patient who was still fast asleep, his breathing so light it was hardly noticeable. His peaceful features and pale skin only emphasized the corpse like image the man presented. The only thing that assured Joe that he would not soon be one was the doctor's emphatic reassurance that the man was doing very well for the trauma that he had undoubtedly been through. Over the course of that first night he had developed a fever, which had yet to fully break, but the wounds didn't seem to be showing any signs of infection. Joe was becoming inpatient for the man to wake up, however, the patient hadn't moved or spoken in over an hour, since the first time he had mumbled for someone named Hannah.

Joe patted his pockets and finding his cigarettes tucked safely inside he turned and walked back down the hall and went outside. The doctor had warned him about smoking around the patient so he had gotten into the habit of taking his cigarettes outside. He wasn't particularly adverse to the small inconvenience even if it was cold with a rain that had been coming down almost steadily for the past two weeks.

As he leaned against the front door and stared out at the overflowing swamp, which had at one time been a pool in the center of the courtyard, Joe wondered, as he had been all week, whether Cody was all right. Everyday since Cody had run out of the club, Joe had taken an hour to first check the teen's apartment and then to see if maybe he had turned up at the club. So far he had had no luck and he debated with himself daily whether he should go to the police. It would have been his first instinct to do so, but then he recalled Cody's detestation of civil authority figures. Joe figured Cody was being chased by someone or perhaps was running from someone, in either case he wanted to stay bellow the notice of society and while Joe didn't want to give up the teen's anonymity, he didn't want him to turn up dead this time either.

* * *

A crack of thunder was quickly followed by a flash of lightning that was so bright Hank could see it through his closed eyelids. He tried to open his eyes but the lids felt as though they were being held down by leads and refused to budge. For another few minutes he remained as he was, slowly becoming aware of the softness of warm blankets and the steady throbbing of his various injuries. With some effort he finally pried his eyes open and slowly took in his surroundings. He shifted his eyes to the bare walls around him, now shrouded in darkness. There was a window to his right, framed by a pair of lifeless curtains, its view obscured by the steady pounding of the hard rainfall.

There was another crack of thunder followed instantly by a series of blinding flashes that briefly lit up the room. Hank slammed his eyes shut as the steady beat of the rain drumming in his ears brought with it flashes of what had happened – what he had done. With every flash of white light he was forced to relive a different horror. The bastard pinning Hannah to the bed as he ripped her clothes and bruised her flesh. The hollowness in Hannah's eyes as the life was stolen from her and the warmness of her blood as it seeped into his chest. The fear-stricken look in the invaders eyes as he fell to his death, with the glass shards glinting in the moonlight and rain framing him like a set of broken wings.

Hank forced his eyes open only to be blinded by yet another bright flash. This time Hannah's eerily lifeless eyes stared at him through her veil of brown hair, her mouth hanging slack as a piercing scream filled his ears. To end the torment, this time, he tried to roll over only to have a dizzying painful stab rush through his chest and stomach. He fell back against the pillows, just barely managing to prevent a scream but unable to suppress a moan as he forced his limbs not to writhe and cause him more pain. Moving his head slightly he took in the room once more, trying to determine where he was.

"If this is hell," he whispered silently to him self after he had settled down, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling, "it all looks rather common."

"Well excuse me for keeping the place so common," replied a disembodied voice second before a face was dangled to within inches from his own.

The figure moved to stand beside the bed. He was tall with tanned forearms crossed over his broad chest, but his smile looked amiable and the outgrown black hair that framed his face seemed to soften the angular features.

"You sure took you're sweet time waking up," he called over his shoulder as the whistling that had invaded Hank's delusions continued.

With a great amount of effort he forced himself to sit up, propping his back as best he could against the metal headboard and pillow. It only took a moment for the stranger to return, carrying two mugs of steaming hot coffee. He held out one of the plain white ceramic cups to Hank who graciously accepted the warm drink, cradling it between both his hands.

"I'm out of beans, you'll have to make do with instant," the stranger informed him.

"Thank you," Hank replied with little emotion, keeping his eyes fixed on the dark brew. "Are…are you the one that saved me?"

"I found you," the stranger replied from his seat, a rickety wooden chair he had placed in the corner at the bottom edge of the bed. "I've been taking care of you but I had a doctor, a friend, patch you up. He said you should be fine in about a month or two so you can just rest here for now. That is unless you have somewhere else to go?"

Hank thought of the charcoaled remains of what had once been his home and replied, "No." As an after thought, and only because it had been drilled into the very core of his being from infancy, he added, "Thank you."

Minutes ticked by as they silently sat there, drinking their coffees.

* * *

Hank lay on his back, staring at the ceiling as the painful throbbing in his limbs slowly subsided. Just moments ago the stranger had helped him change his bandages and had insisted on aiding him into one of his shirts. Over the past week the daily routine had become something of a familiarity, but still Hank occasionally found himself irked by the knowledge that he was once again dependent on a stranger. He had sworn to himself that he would never again be dependant on another.

With a sigh he closed his eyes, desperately seeking the solace of sleep. However, as it often did, the nightmare images flooded his mind and thrust him back to a time he so desperately wished to escape. The haunted faces of his victims flashed before his mind's eye like harmless ghosts, distant and surreal just like the nightmare characters they now presented themselves as. Even Hannah's pale face, stained with bruises and blood, her eyes shadowed by the silky chestnut hair, seemed nothing more than a memory from another lifetime.

Then her corpse-like body opened its loving brown eyes and her rosebud lips parted, letting out a piercing shriek, much like the teakettle from all those nights ago. Suddenly her neck slit open spilling thick scarlet rivers down her porcelain chest, but still the wail continued, as shrill as ever. Although her mouth didn't move, through the cry he could hear her desperate pleading for him to save her, but he couldn't move – he couldn't reach her.

"Hannah…"

The ragged word that forced itself through his parched lips woke him from sleep. His breath came in panting gasps and sweat slicked down his back, making the shirt stick uncomfortable between his back and the mattress. His fingers hurt from where they clutched desperately at the sheets and his stomach wound throbbed as though he had been kicking out in his sleep, which he assumed was entirely possible. Twisting his head to the side he slowly focused in on the numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand. He had only been asleep for a half hour.

"Hey you all right?" the stranger's voice called from the doorway where he now stood with a concerned expression etched across his features.

Hank took another calming breath before twisting himself to his side, away from his rescuer, trying to avoid as much pain as possible, before he replied, "Just a nightmare."

"Well now that you're up," came the disembodied voice, "think you can handle some food?"

"Not a chance," Hank smirked.

The bloody images were still coursing through his mind and his stomach was so unsettled that he knew if he attempted to eat he would be throwing it up in no time. The room fell silent, but Hank could still sense the presence of the other man behind him.

* * *

Joe hesitated at the door, unsure of how to proceed. Although they had been living together for la ittle over a week, he still had yet to question the stranger about his injuries. Since waking from his coma, the stranger had hardly spoken and although Joe attempted to keep him company, they spent most of the time sitting in an uncomfortable silence and no time had seemed appropriate to ask questions. It took all he had now to contain himself from asking who Hannah was. It had become a regular occurrence for the stranger to call out the name in his sleep, but still he insisted that he had no family and there was no one he wished to call.

A heartbeat of silence passed between them before Joe let out a defeated sigh and asked, "I was planning on going down to the store for a little while, but would you rather I stay?"

"No you go ahead," came the polite reply, devoid of any emotion.

"Do you need anything before I leave?"

"No…thank you."

Joe hesitated at the door before grabbing his coat and wallet. He didn't think it wise to leave the man alone, especially seeing as he couldn't stand on his own yet, but he was out of bandages and in desperate need of groceries. He really had no choice except to finish the task as quickly as possible.

As if to spite him the rain picked up, overflowing gutters along the way and forcing him to leave the small protection of the buildings to walk closer to the streets. He broke into a jog when he spotted the store, sheltered by a white canopy near the entrance. Stopping for a moment to dry off, he suddenly caught sight of a red blossom out of the corner of his eye. Whipping his head around his sights set on the flower stand set up under the canopy, displaying a variation of red roses and carnations and a slue of other flowers he couldn't even name.

"Would you like to buy something?" a timid voice asked from his right, where a girl in a rain slicker stood waiting to serve him.

FLASHBACK

Joe rushed home as quickly as he could, ignoring the stinging in his chest from the jarring of his bruised ribs and the annoying itch from the bandage bellow his right eye. His mind was both firmly and happily set on the prize he now cradled preciously in his hands. Through his happiness a small slither of doubt crept into the back of his mind, snickering that his mother would never love anything that came from him, but he quickly shoved the thought aside.

With a smile he increased his pace as his home came into view, a small one floor house that looked run-down and with an overgrown lawn that was scattered with junk parts waiting to be thrown out. He leapt up the three front steps, almost falling in his haste and charged into the house. The floor plan was set in such a way that every room was visible from his position, all of which looked deserted at the moment.

His excitement was somewhat tampered by the knowledge that today wasn't a good day. He knew his mother had locked herself in her room, which she did on the days her depression was particularly bad, and his brother and father were both still at work. Looking down at the red flowers in his hands he debated whether it was a good time to give them. Then, remembering his brother's words to always be brave he courageously took the few steps to the second door on his left. Softly he twisted the knob and pulled the door back just enough to peer through the small space. His mother sat on the rumpled bed sheets, dressed and silently staring out the window.

_Maybe it's not such a bad day._

With a deep breath he pushed the door just a little further and silently slipped into the room.

"Mom?" he whispered then cleared his throat when he heard the words shake. "Mom look what I bought for you at the flower shop. Aren't they pretty?"

He held out the bouquet for her when she turned towards him, but his smile faltered when he saw the lifelessness in her swollen red eyes.

"Yes, and so red too. Just like…blood!" She screamed the last word as she slapped the flowers from his hands.

Joe had barely registered the scattered red blossoms at his feet before he felt a painful sting in his scalp from where his mother had grabbed his hair near the roots. In seconds her fist was slamming down painfully against his head and in a desperate attempt to deter the blows he raised his arms to absorb the punishment. He whimpered and pleaded for his mother to stop, but his cries seemed to fall on deaf ears as she continued her assault all the while screaming at what a terrible son he was and how could he do that to her.

He got no reprieve from the punishment until the door slammed open and his brother called, "Mother stop! You're hurting him."

Dom pulled their mother off him and she immediately collapsed into his arms, crying and telling him that he was the only one she loved. Joe dropped to the floor cradling his abused arms as tears built in the back of his eyes and threatened to spill.

"Joe? Joe go to your room," his brother said as he led their mother away.

He didn't follow his brother's order right away, though. He remained seated on the floor surrounded by the broken blossoms, waiting for the pain to subside.

END FLASHBACK

With the memory still vivid in his mind he quickly backed away mumbling a hurried no before he entered the store – a relative haven from his haunting past. He quickly made his way through the aisles, blindly choosing items from the shelves as he fingered the two faded scars across his cheek. A relic from where his mother had once attacked him with a serving fork.

* * *

The pale green vein that ran bellow his wrist stood out starkly against his pale flesh – a clear diagonal line under which life flowed. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers along the area. He felt no pulse or heat, only the slight bump of a bone under the soft skin – skin that could easily be broken taking a life that could easily be shattered. As he brushed his finger along the spot once more Hank imagined the red droplets slowly forming before the blood started to run out in a steady stream.

As the door slowly creaked open he dropped his arm back down to the covers and his gaze once again sought out the fog-shrouded window. He didn't need to look to know that Joe now stood in the doorway, frowning at the full bowl of cold soup on the nightstand.

However, before any complaints could be voiced Hank turned and stated, "I need to use the bathroom."

The soup instantly forgotten, Joe went to the bed and helped him up, supporting most of his weight as they awkwardly made their way down the short stretch of hallway. Hank leant against the sink and reached a hand out to flip the lock on the door. He knew Joe was sitting just outside, waiting to help him back to the room. Turning he caught the gaze of a hollow face with sunken dull green eyes and matted brown hair. He found he couldn't stare at the reflection long and dropped his gaze just a little lower to the shelf above the sink. A single straight razor shaving blade lay there, calling out to him – daring him.

He had to lean his hip against the sink and clutch his right hand tightly against the rim, sending sparks of pain into the stitches on his bicep, just to keep himself upright. With his left hand he grabbed the blade and pulled it open, admiring the gleaming metal in the fluorescent light that flickered above him. He stared at the vein again – the harmless green tint – before touching the cold metal to his wrist and dragging the blade across. The line was slightly uneven and was slow to begin bleeding, then, like invisible ink suddenly appearing on paper, the red rose up all at once. He touched the blade to his skin again and made a parallel line, this time straighter, and again watched as the blood appeared and ran in rivulets down his wrist to gather in a small puddle in the sink.

He felt a strange metallic taste in his mouth and felt weak from having been standing, although he didn't know how long it had been. He dropped the blade through loosening fingers and barely heard it echo against the porcelain as it smeared the river of red.

"Hey everything okay in there?" Joe's voice asked from the other side of the door as the handle jingled fiercely. "Hey! Open up."

Again the handle rattled as though Joe was willing to pull it from the door in order to get in. Hank leaned forward, his left hand sending bright red droplets to the floor as he reached to unlock the door. It was the first thing Joe noted when he came into the room and he was quick to push Hank down on to the toilet seat and grab a bundle of toilet paper to mop at his wrist.

"The blade fell on me, that's all. They're not deep," Hank softly explained, dragged back to reality now that the paper was slowly turning pink as it absorbed his blood.

He knew Joe didn't believe him and nor should he, but the other man said nothing. Instead he silently pulled out a first aid kit and wrapped Hank's wrist in gauze, keeping it in place with tape and a wrist band. When the work was quickly done they spent a silent moment, where Joe stared down at him burning with a thousand questions and Hank stared at his wrist, strangely feeling a lose for the blood.

"Who's Hannah?" Joe finally asked, breaking the silence.

Hank started before he realized that he had probably called out her name in his sleep. He often woke up with tears in his eyes and her name heavy on his tongue, his fingers itching to grasp her fragile hand, which always seemed to be just beyond his reach.

"She was my life. I tried to protect her, but in the end…" his soft reply trailed off. "I should have been able to save her."

"Look, don't beat yourself up over this. I'm sure she sees that you tried your best," Joe's clear voice encouraged.

Hank raised his eyes to stare into those amber ones of the confident stranger before him and replied, "She's dead. She doesn't see anything anymore."

Joe shrugged, "That's no reason to start ignoring her."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Torn Within  
**

As it so often did, Cody's stomach forced him from a deep dreamless sleep. Pulling his legs tighter into himself, he buried his face deeper into the softness of the pillow and tried to ignore the insistent pull at his empty stomach. Breathing in the fresh smell of soap he snuggled deeper under a heavy comforter, seeking the warmth of its soft cave.

His eyes instantly snapped open as he realized that he was indeed in another bed. He frenziedly cast his gaze about the room, trying to drudge up any memory that could place him to his current location. The room was dark and closed but the furniture looked new, shinning with polish even in the dark, and the place gave off a clean scent unlike the mildew he had become so familiar to in resent years.

Muted footsteps slowly began to echo from past the door, getting steadily louder. Cody scrambled out from under the covers and backed up until his back was pressed tightly against the headboard. Soundlessly the door slid open to reveal a tall shadowy figure. Silently they stared at one another – or at least Cody thought the figure was staring at him – before it moved into the room. Cody pressed himself painfully closer to the headboard and clutched his knees to his chest, not caring that the cuts on his wrist rubbed agonizingly against the rough fabric of his jeans.

The figure grasped a hold of the blinds and with a single jerk lifted them, blinding Cody with the dull light of the storm cast day. However, with a few blinks he was able to adjust his eyes and when he looked back at the stranger he felt a flicker of recognition. The blonde man had saved him that night in the alley and again when Soren's goons had been chasing him through the park.

_So I must still be at his house then._

"Do you remember who I am?" Sam asked as if reading his train of thought.

Cody quickly nodded, relaxing the crushing hold he had on his legs ever so slightly. Although, for some reason he didn't fear the man before him, instinctively he felt the bubbling anger just bellow the surface, reflected in his piercing violet eyes and he wondered if he were being foolish in letting his guard down. He really had no idea of what Sam would do to him…and yet he felt safer with this stranger than he had with anyone else.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" Sam demanded – his annoyance just barely masked.

Cody got the impression that Sam wanted to hit him for his stupidity, but neither of them moved and so he softly replied, "I'm always sick."

The briefest look of surprise caught Sam's eyes before his expression turned stern again.

"You must be hungry, can you walk to the kitchen?" Although he said it like a question Sam walked out of the room without waiting for an answer.

Cody remained on the bed for a moment, after having watched the back of his savior till it was out of sight. The angry rumble in his stomach reminded him that he was desperate for food and so he uncertainly stood up and made his way down to the kitchen. They shared a silent meal before Sam commanded him to go back upstairs and rest. Cody didn't object and quickly found the room he had been sleeping in before. This time the fresh scent of soap on the covers didn't scare him and he quickly fell back into his dreamless sleeping.

FLASHBACK

The rough hand around his throat tightened effectively cutting off his air supply. As painful as the grip was he wished it would tighten more because he knew he would pass out before they were through, but he would rather die then simply wake up with a sore and bruised throat. Yet, despite this fact he still found himself writhing away from the vial touches and the constrictive pressure.

"No, no, no," came a reprimanding tisk in his ear, the moist air hot against his sweat-slicked face.

Soren's tongue darted out and slowly slid along the shell of Cody's ear. He cringed away from the touch and gasped as, not only the hand around his neck tightened, but also the ones holding down his thighs.

"You know better than that, now, don't you," Soren whispered in his ear.

END FLASHBACK

Jerking upright in bed, Cody just barely managed to untangle himself from the covers and run to the bathroom to throw up the bile that had been rising in his throat, into the sink. The nightmare that had been creeping around his mind from sometime near dawn had finally driven him back to sickness. The last few dry heaves were painful on his empty stomach, but he couldn't control them any better then he could control his fear.

Weakly wiping the back of his hand across his mouth he leaned his head on his folded arms, across the edge of the sink. A cold sweat damped his skin, chilling him to the soul, making him want to catch the next ride out of town and start fresh in a new city where he could once again become invisible. Instead he forced himself back up and brushed his teeth with the toothbrush Sam had given him and washed the remnants of vomit from the sink.

It didn't take long for the soft rhythmic taping of a keyboard to fill the stillness of the house. Cody followed the sound to the last door at the end of the hall and hesitantly peaked in. Sam was sitting behind a desk, absorbed in his work. Trying not to disturb him, Cody slid into the room and dragged a stool beside Sam's leather chair, seating himself silently.

Sam hardly even cast him a side-glance, making it all the more shocking when a hand suddenly shot out towards him. Reacting instantly, the movements bred into him, Cody flinched away, slamming his eyes shut and raising his arm protectively in front of him. When nothing more then a warm touch to his forehead ensued, he dared to open his eyes and look at his rescuer. Sam had his other hand on his own forehead and seemed to contemplate the difference between the two.

"Your fever seems to have gone down," Sam stated, dropping both his hands and resuming his task on the computer without commenting on Cody's strange reaction.

Slowly he lowered his arm back to his lap. "Uh…yeah. I'm fine now…I guess I just needed some rest."

As if to purposely mock his statement a cough forced its way up his throat and burned his lungs with its intensity. Sam's fingers halted over the keys until Cody was finally able to gasp in a breath and control the fit.

"You still need rest, I just said your fever went away. Come on let's get you something to eat," he stated with a hint of subdued annoyance.

Cody would have rather grabbed his clothes and gotten onto the next bus down to the ghetto, but the prospect of food was simply too tempting. Even with the knowledge that Soren's men knew where he was, he still felt safe with the golden haired stranger, and so he followed him down the stairs and sat at the kitchen table patiently, while food was prepared for him.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Cody sat in the living room. He pulled the curtains back an inch so he could peak out at the deserted rain slicked roads. It had been coming down so hard that the streets were beginning to flood and not a sign of life had passed by in over four hours. He had been keeping a watchful eye out for any sign of a black sports car, but nothing had passed by as of yet.

"Keep those closed," he heard Sam's reprimanding voice call out from behind him and cringed at the sudden command.

Dropping the curtain back into place Cody turned in his seat explaining, "I just wanted to look outside."

"It's raining," Sam, replied simply, his voice once more tame as he settled himself on the opposite sofa.

"It's not like I had the window open," Cody mumbled stubbornly as he pulled his legs up against his chest, his arms burried snuggly in the space formed between.

Sam had noted that since regaining awareness after his sickness Cody had gotten into the habit of hiding his arms. His intension wasn't to be cruel, however, he wouldn't allow the youth to have his sweat top back yet, as the heat would only agrivate his fever.

A heavy silence fell between them momentarily before Sam cleared his throat and asked, "So, should I call your parents? You've been gone a long time, I'm sure they'd be worried."

"They died when I was really little. I don't even remember them."

"Grew up in a home then?" Sam wondered out loud, surprisingly curious about the boy's life.

"No not exactly, I grew up with my uncle."

Sam couldn't suppress his sigh or the annoyed look he shot at the boy who was clearly fidgeting. Cody played with the frayed cuff on his jeans in order to keep his gaze diverted from Sam's. After a moment he managed to work up the courage to explain.

"My uncle…he kinda…well he used beat on me a lot so when I was fourteen I ran away and I've mostly been on my own ever since."

Sam decided not to question any further after that. As hard as he tried to focus back on his work Cody's words kept echoing in his mind.

_He used to beat on me._

The heavy silence had once again fallen between them and with Sam's frustration steadily rising he decided to put aside his work for the night and reached into his pocket for his smokes. Upon taking the first calming breath his eyes caught sight of his young charge, legs curled up to his chest and once again looking through the curtains.

"Those guys the other night, do you know them?"

If possible, Cody seemed to sink deeper into himself.

He rested his head on his knees and incoherently muttered, "umm…huh…"

Despite the reluctance emitted by the boy Sam tried once more for some answers, "Why are they after you?"

"I have something they want." Before Sam could ask any more questions Cody quickly stated, "I'm getting tired again, would it be all right if I slept for a little longer?"

Taken off guard Sam muttered in reply, "Uh…yeah sure."

* * *

Long after he had gone to bed, Sam still couldn't get Cody's words out of his mind. Thoughts from his past came creeping in through the crevices in the protective walls he had erected around himself, spreading through his mind like a cancer, its black fingers drawing a cold sweat in his nightmares.

FLASHBACK

After the death of his parents, a hollow rage seemed to nest itself inside his soul, fed day after day by the trivial mindlessness of his peers and the pedophilic advances of the man who supposedly had taken on the role of his 'father'. Late one night, as he watched a storm brew outside his window and enjoyed the relaxing comfort of a difficultly obtained cigarette, he heard his foster father trudge around their small apartment in a drunken stupor. Although the situation was not in the least unusual, something about that night felt strangely different. The air seemed to be charged with a heavy foreboding of disaster.

Just as he had stubbed out the last remain of his cigarette the door smashed open and his foster father stumbled into the room, knocking over the contents of his dresser. Kicking his ashtray under the bed, Sam leaned back on his elbows against the hard mattress.

"I'm going to bed so get out," he calmly replied to his intoxicated guardian.

"A tough one ain't yah," the man replied, blowing a puff from his own cancer stick. "A pretty little thing too…in fact you could almost pass for a girl."

Sam's eyes shot wide at the comment, but he was left no time to react before the other man had him pinned to the bed with his body. The cigarette bud still in his hand pressed firmly against Sam's forearm, burning the skin so that the stench of charred flesh mingled with that of body sweat and hard liquor. The man's other hand bravely roamed up Sam's shirt, unwittingly unleashing the brooding rage from deep within him.

Sam squirmed till he got one of his arms unpinned then with a series of solid blows he managed to break his foster father's collarbone. His guardian tilted away in the agony of the damage, freeing Sam's other hand, which he used to capture the offending fingers on his person and break three of them with a single jerk backwards, pieces of fractured bones thrusting through the skin. A hard kick to the kneecap and the man finally rolled off him, crumbling to the floor in a mess of blood and curdling screams. Sam didn't even wait to catch his breath before pushing his way from the small confines of the room and heading straight for the phone to call the cops.

END FLASHBACK

* * *

The sun had yet to rise, but already Cody was awake. For what seemed like an hour he lay in bed listening for any signs that Sam might be up too. Finally mustering his courage he climbed from the bed and tried to arrange the covers back to some semblance of order. Afterwards, he snuck as quietly as he could to the door of the room and pushed it open an inch to make sure the hall was clear before he headed down the steps.

As much as he loved staying in a warm bed, having warm meals and even Sam's gruff mannerisms, it was simply too dangerous to stay there any longer. He had contemplated telling Sam personally that he was thankful for all he had done, but in the end decided on simply writing him a note. He couldn't chance the fact that Sam might ask him more questions about his past and it was simply too dangerous to involve anyone else in his matters.

Not finding any paper he quickly scribbled out a note on a napkin before grabbing his old clothes from the hamper. He wished he could give Sam back the set he had loaned him, but he feared he would waste too much time in changing. The other set of clothes tucked under his arm, Cody snuck out the front door, feeling like a thief in the night, and surveyed his surroundings before dashing off into the woods from which he came some nights ago.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: My Sanity On The Funeral Pyre**

Hank had found that he had slipped into the new habit of staring at the bandages on his wrist when Joe wasn't looking. While he wanted to be condemned to hell for what he did, he no longer wished for death. Although, he now hungered for the blood, which seemed to ground him in reality, keeping his mind focused as appose to blissfully empty.

Since the incident he had thought of nothing but Hannah and what he would do once he got better. He supposed he would turn himself in and face whatever consequences he was to receive in order to repent, both for the crimes of murder and his inability to save his love.

With a sigh, he dropped his arm back down to the blankets, hearing Joe's footsteps approaching from the hall.

"You need to eat in order to get your energy back so I'm not leaving until you do," Joe commenced fiercely as he brought a tray into the room. "You got that?"

Hank couldn't help laughing slightly at his adamant caretaker before replying simply, "Yes."

He politely accepted the bowl of soup offered to him and commenced eating as Joe settled himself in the chair he kept by the bedside. The two men sat in a heavy silence, Hank focusing intently on lunch as Joe focused with equal intent on shuffling a deck of cards.

"I'm sorry but…what day is it?" Hank asked softly, moments later after he discarded the dishes to the nightstand.

He had ached to ask the question earlier, but couldn't seem to bring the burning words to pass his lips. He supposed he had been afraid of the answer, afraid of how he might react and the finality it would mean.

The old fears rushed back to him, but before he could take back the question Joe responded, "Friday the fourteenth."

Hot tears rushed to his eyes as a constrictive noose laced itself around his neck, threatening to choke and yet reminding him with stark clearness that he wasn't dead at all. He tried to gasp in a breath as an image of Hannah's creamy complexion, once again stained with bruises and the deathly cut across her throat, flitted through his mind, threatening to burn itself on the back of his eyelids.

"Are you okay," Joe questioned instantly springing from his seat to help, although, he knew not what to do.

"It…"Hank chocked on the words, but forced himself to take a deep breath and face Joe with a cheerless smile, explaining, "It was going to be our wedding today. Just a small service at a local church with the minister's wife as a witness, but Hannah was so excited. She's picked out the dress a month ago and…" emotion chocked his throat and looking away Hank refused to continue.

"I'm sorry," Joe whispered, knowing the words were nowhere near sufficient, but lacking anything else to say.

After a moment Hank looked back at him with the same small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"We grew up in different orphanages and met in college. We…it was like love at first sight, you know? She was the most caring person I knew, always doted over everyone…"

Another heavy silence fell between them in which all Joe could think to do was to offer up more coffee to the emotionally dying man. He wasn't sure why but Hank's talking made him think of his mother, her aged face permanently stained with tears – tears that he caused just by living.

_The love he couldn't save…the love I couldn't win…_

They had both drained the last of their coffees before either spoke.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you with that," Hank said, the polite smile adorning his face once more.

It was on the tip of Joe's tongue to reply that he was welcome to talk about it if he wanted to, that his pain was understandable, but before he could respond Hank was already saying, "Why don't we play a game of cards.

* * *

"Straight," Hank stated, placing his cards face up on the covers.

"Damn, and here I was going easy on you because you're an invalid," Joe responded, shuffling the cards once more.

_As far as you know._

Hank's mood seemed to have lightened since they had begun playing poker some few hours ago. Joe was only too happy to be able to distract him – his girlfriend dead on the day of their wedding – he didn't want to risk another possible suicide after all the man had been through.

Dividing out the cards once more he lined them up for what promised to be a straight. Hank kept the cards he had, his face excellently shadowing any emotion – he was one of the hardest players Joe had ever played against, never revealing any tells and never losing.

Exchanging two of his own cards, Joe couldn't hold back his smile as he slammed down the lot and exclaimed, "How about that, now I have the straight!"

"I'm sorry, but I seem to have a royal flush," Hank replied as calm as you please, only the slightest hint of a smile reveling his pleasure.

A frown creasing his brows, Joe intently studied his opponent before wondering out loud, "You a professional or something?"

Hank chuckled lightly. "No, I guess these things just come easily to me. But even if I could read the flow of the game I would need a lot of luck on my side."

"So you're the cleaver poor boy type huh…me too," Joe commented pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lighting up.

Before he could deal out the cards again the phone rang and he quickly made his way to the kitchen to answer it. Hank could hear his muffled voice from down the hall, and although he only caught parts of one side of the conversation he heard enough to know that Joe was needed at work and his presence was stopping him from going. Idly shuffling the cards he waited for Joe to return, hoping to convince him that he didn't need to forsake his job in order to baby-sit a stranger.

"I never asked where you work," he asked as politely as could be when Joe returned to the room, looking down at the cards to avoid his gaze.

"Huh?" Confusion etched on his face before the abrupt question sank in. "At Charmed Life, the bar a few blocks from here."

"You've taken so many days off to care for me, you must be needed."

"I had a few vacation days saved up," Joe replied with confidence, but Hank noted the slightest hint of hesitation in his caretaker's gaze.

"They must have been calling to ask for you to come in. You should go."

"No way, they can last without me," Joe was quick to insist.

Hank slide down from the headboard, resting his head against the stacked up pillows before replying, "I could use some rest. You go ahead. Your things are safe. You know I can't get anywhere."

His teasing jab seemed to convince Joe after he feigned sleeping for a few minutes. Presumably waking him up, Joe informed him that he wouldn't be gone long and he would have the elderly doctor from upstairs come check on him later on.

* * *

The night seemed busier than usual, even by weekend standards. Joe didn't think he'd have a chance to get in a few card games let alone walk down to Cody's apartment. The loss of his pocket change was only slightly more devastating then the knowledge that he would also not have the chance to toss around with a few of the hotties.

As he mourned the loss of his entertainment and eyed a particular set of beauties, a stranger in a long black coat caught his attention. Joe eyed him as he neared the bar. Something about the way the man shifted through the crowd, his eyes continuously scanning the room, gave him an unfitting air. Ignoring the orders shouted at him, Joe shifted around the bar to where the man had found himself a place.

"Can I help you," he demanded, strangely all the more suspicious when the stranger smiled back at him.

"I hope so," he called over the music, stepping closer to be heard. "I'm looking for someone, a young boy with golden eyes. He comes here often. His name's Cody."

Joe gritted his teeth, the knowledge of where he'd seen the man before infested his mind like an unwanted nightmare. A vision of Cody, hollow eyed and crestfallen, being led into one of the back rooms by the man who now stood before him, gave Joe a metallic taste in his mouth and the urge to beat the bastard to a pulp on the spot.

Instead he seized the man by the front of his jacket and forcefully jerked him closer before stating in a harsh whisper, "That kid's been through enough you pervert, get your kicks elsewhere."

"No…I think you misunderstood," the man sputtered, grasping Joe's hands in a desperate attempt to loosen the hold on himself.

"You leave that boy alone!" Joe stated, nearly finding himself yelling. "If I ever see you around here again I'll personally…"

"Hello reverend," a meek voice came from behind the stranger effectively cutting off Joe's rant.

Looking over the other's shoulder Joe spotted Cody, his eyes downcast and posture slumped, but otherwise fine and seemingly unharmed. Taking advantage of his surprise the 'reverend' loosened himself from Joe's grasp and straightened his jacket before smiling politely at the teen.

* * *

"What the hell Cody! You had me worried shitless over your worthless ass and all you can say is 'I was sick'?" Joe ranted minutes later, once they'd staked a back room for their conversation.

Cody restlessly swung his leg over the edge of the bed and shrugged. Joe turned a weary eye on the reverend, who had taken the only other seat in the room, a rickety wooden stool placed in the corner. He still didn't trust the man although he couldn't place why.

"And what about this guy? You know what it looks like, meeting back here?" Joe shot stubbornly at the teen, wanting him to feel some sense of remorse for having driven him crazy with worry.

Cody instantly blushed fiercely at the suggestion and yelled back, "I told you I don't do that! Twisted asshole."

"I'm simply helping Cody find someone," the reverend finally commented from his seat, a worried crease forming between his brows. "I met Cody at a shelter back in Chicago and promised to help him track down a certain someone. I'm sorry to say Cody that I don't have any more news for you. It seems the only trail I had, hit a dead end and I haven't been able to find out a thing since the last time we spoke. I'm sorry to say, but I don't think I can be of anymore help in your search."

"Oh…thanks," Cody responded stopping the swinging of his leg in order to hug both legs to his chest.

* * *

On the walk back to his place, Joe couldn't help continuously casting Cody side-glances. The boy walked beside him, subdued and silent, but looking better then he had in weeks. The bruises that had stained his face since last Joe had seen him were scarcely noticeable now, he seemed to have gained weight, if only just a little and even his eyes no longer seemed as hollow. While back at the club Joe tried to question Cody about where he had been, but got no more of an answer than some man had found him and helped him out.

Mysteries seemed to be unfolding faster around him than Joe could count. In the past month he had gone from a fairly subdued if not boring life to a veil of unknown shrouding every circumstance and person.

"So this reverend…you trust him?" Joe asked, pulling his cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one in order to distract himself.

"I don't know," Cody responded as vague as ever.

"This guy you're trying to find, why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Trust me it was for your own good. I wouldn't have told the reverend, but he sort of accidentally found out." Cody paused both in step and speech. "You got someone over, Joe?"

"Huh?" Joe looked around, surprised to notice that they had already reached his apartment. The lights were on in the living room, staining the walk with a dull glow, announcing the life within.

"Yeah I found this guy a couple weeks ago. He was hurt so he's staying with me for a while," Joe explained, grabbing Cody's arm and pulling him the rest of the way to his place, not letting go for fear the teen would run away. Joe knew he hated meeting strangers since the incident.

Stepping into the warmth of the apartment Joe instantly wondered if the doctor was still there. The kettle was still blowing steam on the counter as though it had recently been used and when he had left the house he was sure only the lights in the back room were open.

"Hey were back," Joe called out in the vicinity of his room.

"Hello," came the soft reply, not as Joe expected from the bedroom, but from the couch.

Hank was lying across the sofa, a pillow propping his back and book across his lap, looking comfortable enough to give the impression that he had been there for a while. For the first time he was wearing the glasses Joe had found in the bloodied shirt pocket, back when he had first found him. Although Joe had, had them clean and sitting on the nightstand since he had found them, Hank had never seemed to need them until now.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" Joe demanded. He knew Hank was in a hurry to recover, but he worried the man was pushing himself too quickly. All he needed was for the stitches to rip open.

"I needed a change of scene. Thought sitting in the living room might be nice. Who's your friend?" Hank asked politely, putting the book aside and tucking the glasses into the front pocket on his shirt.

Joe turned, forgetting he had Cody with him, but the teen, surprisingly, didn't seem to be shy. He toed off his shoes and sat on the armrest of the sofa facing Hank, hugging his knees as he studied the stranger.

"I'm Cody and you?" he replied as though Joe hadn't had to drag him just to get him into the house.

"Hank," the man replied with another one of his polite smiles. This one seeming genuine, however, touching at the corner of his eyes and making him look younger, less weighed down by the world. "So then you're the one Joe's been worried about."

"Huh? That jerk off, he doesn't worry about anyone but himself," Cody teased, loud enough that Joe could hear from the kitchen where he was fixing coffee.

"Don't be so sure," Hank retorted with a chuckle.

* * *

Joe had been surprised, beyond shock even, at the ease in which Cody and Hank befriended each other. As he lay on a make shift bed that night, Cody safely sleeping on his couch and Hank settled back in the bedroom, he thought of their earlier banter. He had sworn not to care for another after his mother kicked him out and his brother abandoned him. Then the sentement had been reinforced after its temporary lapse with Mindy, but it seemed without his realizing he had begun to care for others again. He supposed he looked upon Cody as a younger brother and he did worry about what would happen to Hank…and then without his allowing thoughts of Mindy and her son flooded his mind and dreams, like the ghost of a future he could never attain.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: The Sound Of Silence**

The annoying rhythmic tone of the phone forced Sam awake. If he hadn't known that it would be related to the case he would never have answered. With a groan he blindly fumbled for the phone on his nightstand.

"What?"

"I, umm…detective Genet?" Came the frightful voice of Aidan, one of Bosa's lackeys.

"What did you find out?" Sam demanded, paying no care to the frightened man on the other end, as he propped himself up in bed.

"Well sir, I – that is we, what I mean to say is the investigators you asked for…they found out the apartment was being rented to the girl and the coroner identified all the others as members of the Dark Crow gang," he stammered awkwardly in reply.

"I knew all this, what the hell are you calling me for then?" Sam demanded once again, around a cigarette as he lit up.

"Well the officers have asked almost everyone in the building and finally found someone who remembers the girls' boyfriend. Seems the couple kept to them selves. They were a group of orphans or something, came from…"

"Aidan get to the fucking point! What did they find out about him?" Sam interrupted.

"They…they couldn't get his name but they found out where he worked," Aidan quickly responded, the hint of fear back in his voice.

"Well?"

"A school. It's a school in the inner city. Lady of Constant Sorrow, I believe the name is," Aidan rushed in a single breath.

"Good work." Sam offered before hanging up.

Lying back against the pillows Sam took another drag of his cigarette as he pondered over this new information. All the Dark Crows were found dead, which somehow tied into the death of an unknown girl and the only person who seemed to be in the position to answer his questions was nameless and missing.

_Lady of Constant Sorrow…_

The name sounded familiar, although he didn't know where he might have heard it. As if it contained a magnetic force, the need to sate his curiosity pulled Sam to discover its location. He pushed out of bed and padded down the hall to his study, quickly opening his computer. A quick search and he was able to retrieve an address, but little else. It seemed that he would need to drive down there if he hoped to get any answers.

Spotting the crumpled news clipping the old lady had given him; he pulled the scrap closer to himself and studied the words he now knew by heart. The article didn't seem to talk about anything that would be relevant to the case. It had merely suggested the raising of the after school program budget for inner city schools. Unseeingly he stared at the picture of the brunette reporter surrounded by a dozen children until the image began to blur, shifting until the only thing he could focus on were her desperate eyes, pleading with him that he find the truth. Blinking, his eyes re-adjusted on the small caption at the bottom of the photo…Lady of Constant Sorrow.

Pulling another cigarette from the pack on the desk, Sam leaned back with a sigh. That's when he caught sight of the stool that Cody had placed beside his desk some days ago. A strange hollowness seemed to fill his chest at the thought that the boy wasn't following him like a lost puppy anymore. Just as quickly as the thought came, however he smirked and silently assured himself that he was relieved not to have the teen uncomfortably looming over his shoulder as he had been routinely doing.

Dragging on his cigarette he slowly came to notice the house was dull… silent. Even on the days that Cody had been sick and sleeping, Sam had never felt the eerie stillness as he did now. He stubbed out the cigarette, almost hesitant, then slowly pushed his seat back and made his way to the spare room. The door stood ajar, brightened by the hazy morning light. Sam instantly knew that his charge had taken off when he spotted the bed, its sheets roughly pulled into a sense of tidiness. Working at ignoring his gut feeling he shut the door and walked downstairs. The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. He noticed no change at all to the room until he went to make coffee, that's when he spotted a messy note scrawled across a napkin.

Sam,

Thank you for everything you've done for me. I'll find some way to repay you

-Cody

With a burst of agitation he crumpled the fragile note and tossed it back to the counter, turning his back on it as he went to grab himself a cup of coffee.

* * *

Staring at the building from the outside it was hard to imagine that the lifeless gray stone housed anything other than a prison, certainly never a school. Situated on a corner and towering above the block like a cathedral, every square window bordered with iron bars and its cement courtyard framed with a six-foot high spiked gate, the image cast nothing but an ominous environment not particularly conducive to learning. Or so Sam thought as he sat in his Porsche taking in the boding evil of which he was about to enter.

It wasn't a surprise that the interior wasn't any better, with the once white floor stained yellow with age, the hospital green paint chipping and several sections of the ceiling showing severe signs of water damage. However, in a striking contrast the students were as lively as ever as they chatted in the halls and rushed to their next classes.

Sam patiently waited in front of the office as the principle finished up her rounds in the hall before class began. The scurrying quickly died down at another piercing shrike from the bell until the halls were empty and silent save for the elderly head mistress.

"Detective Genet, I'm sorry for the delay. Please come into my office," the elderly nun graciously waved him through the wooden doors past the secretary's desk and into a homely looking office. He silently took one of the wooden chairs before her desk, almost smirking at the feeling that he was back in primary school and was about to have his hands rapped with a wooden stick for some mischief.

"I'm sorry to bother you sister," Sam began out of politeness.

"Oh not at all. I'll be happy to help in any way I can detective," the sister interrupted.

"Do you remember the woman from this article?" Sam continued, reaching into his breast pocket for the slip of paper and handing it over to the sister.

"Hannah, yes," the sister replied instantly. "She came here over a month ago now. She was a very sweet girl, but I'm afraid I haven't seen her since."

"Did she come to you with the idea for this article or was it the schools choice?"

"No, one of our substitute teachers, Hank Chogan, ask if she might come and take a picture with his students."

_Hank Chogan…could he be the boyfriend maybe?_

"Were they dating?" Sam asked rather bluntly, noting the name in his notepad.

"I'm not sure…they did seem to know each other well. You see Mr. Chogan was substituting for one of our teachers who is on sick leave. We were hoping he might take a full time position at the end of the year. He's so wonderful with the children. So very well mannered too, but he didn't seem to like talking about himself."

"Do you know where I might find him?" Sam asked, itching to reach for his cigarettes now that it seemed he had hit another dead end with his case.

"I'm sorry detective I don't. He hasn't come into work for almost a month and the number we had of his is disconnected." The nun placed a finger against her lips, the crowfeet wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she narrowed her eyes in concentration. "I think he may have mention once that he lived in the inner city, not far from here. And come to think of it, it was after the fires that he went missing…" her eyes grew with fearful concern as they concentrated on him now, desperately seeking reassurance. "You don't suppose…"

Sam cleared his throat, once again reluctant to admit to someone the very likely possibility that the person they were querying about was dead. "I'm sure he's fine sister. Thank you for your help."

* * *

Sam took another drag of his cancer stick as he replaced the receiver on its hook. Since he had returned home from the school, he had spent his time on the phone calling each hospital and clinic he could in order to try and track down Hank Chogan. It seemed the man was determined to stay hidden in his shroud of shadows.

Before Sam knew it, he found himself once again staring at the empty seat beside his desk. As he inhaled once more on his smoke he allowed his mind to briefly wander on thoughts of Cody. Something was happening with the teen, there was no doubt of that. He had been attacked on two separate occasions of which Sam knew, and had obviously endured more cruelty in his life. This combined with the fact that he had been sick and constantly on guard made Sam question the ease in which he was ready to forget the boy. However, he didn't want the added headache of watching over someone else, but even more importantly he didn't want to keep remembering the scenes from his own past that Cody seemed to unwittingly resurface.

Snuffing out the bud, he smirked at himself and turned back to his computer, checking the police's missing persons files for anyone that matched the description he was given of Hank Chogan. Still the silence around him grew like a cancer and the empty chair seemed to mock him from his peripheral vision. He tried to refocus his efforts but found it pointless; he simply couldn't forget the stupid kid.

_He use to beat on me…I'm always sick…I have something they want…_

"I have something they want," Sam softly repeated to himself, giving up his futile search to light another smoke as he leaned back in his chair.

He had never got the chance to find out what that was. What could a street urchin have that would be valuable enough to send out two men in business suits to hunt him down? As if they were staring right at him, Sam felt the steely yet desperate gaze of the golden eyes that had trapped his attention. Once again he heard that calling plea break through the silence of the night, tugging his soul to help its vocalist.

"Damn it all," he swore, yanking up the phone before he could regain his senses and think better of what he was about to do.

After a single ring the receiver answered. "Yeah?"

"Dan I want you to ask around and see what you can find about a teen named Cody. Average height, slight build, nineteen but looks sixteen...and he's got golden eyes."

"That ain't exactly a lot to go on detective," his informant shot back, incredulously.

"Do it and you'll get compensated nicely. Oh and Dan put a rush on it."

* * *

It didn't take long for his informant to track the teen down to the slums of the inner city. It seemed he was recognized for his eye color as no other information could be found; no home address, last name. Nothing, save for the club where he was often seen during the weekend. Sam wasn't sure what he expected, he wasn't even sure he had found Cody and only God knew what he would do if he had. He sighed, trying not to think too hard about it – or at all – as he cast his better judgment aside and stepped into the carnal world of neon lights and pounding music. Not wanting to be there any longer then he had to, he made a straight line for the bar.

"What's your poison," the bartender asked him.

"No drink. I'm looking for someone. His name's Cody, he's a teen with brown hair and gold eyes. I'm told he hangs out here a lot," Sam replied leaning over the bar to be heard.

The bartender's eyes instantly darkened and without a word he rounded the bar to where Sam stood.

"What the hell do you want with him, or are you going to tell me you're some reverend too?"

"What?" Sam demanded squaring his shoulders in reflection to the raven-haired man before him.

"Who are you," the other questioned, as though it were a threat.

"Detective Sam Genet," he replied, frustrated as he wiped out his wallet to show his ID and badge.

The bartender took a moment to study the credentials before he asked, "You were the one that helped Cody out, weren't you?"

"I guess you could say that," Sam replied, tucking his wallet back into his breast pocket. "Do you know where I can find him?"


	11. Chapter 11

Nathan – Nataku

Soren – Homura (for those who may have forgotten)

Colton Genet - Komyou Sanzo (for those who may have forgotten - he's dead, as mentioned in chapter 4)

**Chapter 11: Into The Dark Past**

A heavy disappointment hit Cody in the chest at the sight of the run down building he called home. A biting wind seemed to propel him toward it, making him hunch his shoulders against the cold and wrap his fingers inside the long sleeves of his sweat top. He longed for the warm comfort of Sam's home, the clean scent of the sheets and the warm meals. In fact, entering the dimly lit and moist cavern of the stairwell, he would even take a night at Joe's place. However, despite his friends' pressuring him to stay, he couldn't bring himself to impose anymore on Joe. He had Hank to worry about now; Cody didn't want to put any more pressure on him.

The sickening scent of mildew attacked his senses instantly. The stuffed air hardly even circulated through the small room. He couldn't believe that after so many years he would actually have to readjust himself to his offensive surroundings after just a few weeks absence. He had to pull the wooden planks off the window in order to get some air, intensifying the sound of sirens and abstract noise from the streets.

Cody didn't think it very smart to stand by the window, considering the neighborhood he lived in. He, therefore, opted to sit under it. The hard, damp wood pressing against his back was strangely comforting and the howling of the wind sounded like a soothing lullaby. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, his legs pressed into his chest, as always, his head resting against his knees and his mind wandering through the wreckage of his past. He had never honestly felt as though he belonged anywhere; had never had a real home. He supposed, the closest he had ever come was sharing a small room some five years back, when he had run away from home and stayed with Nathan at his dad's whore house-gaming club.

Cody was pulled from his reverie by the sudden burst of knocking at his door. The only one that knew to find him there was Joe, and he had just left him at the club less than an hour ago. If he had been thinking with any sense, he would never have left his position from under the window. Especially not to open the door to the agitated pounding without thinking to leave the chain on or, at the very least, calling through the door seeing as he had no peep-hole. None of this registered, however, until he stood, gob smacked, before his savior with the street lamp halo.

"How…how did you find me here?" he questioned after a moment of tense silence, his grip on the doorframe turning his knuckles white.

_What if I was wrong about him?_

Sam's jaw tightened at the question and he noticeably forced himself to relax before replying, "When someone goes through all the trouble of finding you, you say 'hello, please come in'."

Despite his thoughts just moments ago, Cody couldn't seem to bring himself to think poorly of Sam and so he pushed the door open wider and stepped aside while mumbling, "Umm…hello, please…please come in."

The greeting felt awkward and unfamiliar and at the back of his mind Cody silently reminded himself that he had never been in a position to invite anyone in, not to mention the fact that etiquette had hardly had a place in the type of life he'd lived. However, he didn't allow himself to dwell on these musings as Sam brushed past him and silently began inspecting his accommodations. Closing the door behind him, Cody stood, his hand still on the doorknob and his back pressed against the wood.

"How did you find me?" Cody once again asked.

"Your friend at the bar, Joe Shayne, he gave me your address."

Cody's reaction was instant; his teeth ground together and his hands fisted at his sides, desperately wanting to connect with something solid.

_What the hell was he thinking? That bastard is going to get me killed._

Sam could barely hold in his distain of the shabby room, which could scarcely qualify as an apartment. Dust wasn't a scarce commodity in the space that seemed as though it would fit into his living room. The odor of mildew, hung heavy in the air and glimpsing in the bathroom, it seemed as though pond scum and rust had made habitat of the poorly done tiles. There weren't any doors on the cabinets in the kitchen and stacked beside the sink was a haphazard mélange of chipped porcelain dishes.

"So this is what you were in such a hurry to get back to?" Sam question, pointedly eyeing the couch with its rumpled blanket and flattened, yellowing pillow.

Cody's cheeks tinted as he shifted his gaze downward and mumbled, "I wasn't…it pulls out…"

Even if there was room to pull the sofa out into a bed, Sam was willing to bet the teen never bothered to do so. Before he had a chance to comment, however, Cody crossed his arms over his chest and forcefully stated, "You said I could stay until I got better and I'm better now. I know I said I'd pay you back and I meant it, but I don't have any money-"

"You think I came here for something as trivial as that?" Sam erupted, then instantly regretted his tone when he saw Cody drop his arms to his sides, hang his head, and worry on his bottom lip. He could only imagine what Cody was thinking.

With a resigned sigh he pushed the meager contents off the couch and sat down, indicating that Cody should follow. After a moments hesitation Cody crossed the room to retrieve his blanket from off the floor and sat beside Sam his legs pulled up to his chest and head resting against his knees. The flexibility the boy possessed never seemed to fail to amaze him. He looked perfectly comfortable in the position too, his head tilted toward Sam, his eyes curious and yet…trusting.

In order to stall for time Sam reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He took his time lighting up and enjoying the first drag, ignoring Cody as he did so. He had hoped that once he found Cody words would somehow just come to him, however, now they seemed to fall short. His thoughts, on the other hand, wouldn't stop coming. He didn't even know were to begin asking questions. Coming right out and demanding answers seemed to be the only solution, albeit not the best approach. However, while Cody remained confused as he was, silent, and not pressing for answers Sam took his time to study his surroundings further. The rotting flooring, the broken glass pane in the window sill, all reminded him of his past foster homes, although none had been so desolate as this.

He didn't think twice before allowing his ashes to fall unchecked to the ground, not even once Cody opened his mouth as though in protest, but then thought better of it. On top of his questions, an image of his father, the man who had rescued him from the anatomic life of an orphan, came to mind. His kind gentle eyes had encouraged him to release his anger while his stability allowed Sam to break free from the streets. On that fateful night, when he was just barely eighteen and found himself once again alone in the world, staring at the cold tombstone that lay before him, had he not sworn to repay him for his kindness? To maybe one day save someone as he had been saved?

"How long have you been living here?" he demanded, his question abrupt and stark against the silence that had consumed them till then.

Cody raised his head from his arms, his eyes wide in sudden surprise, but without hesitation he replied, "Almost two years now. Why?"

Not knowing how to answer the question Sam chose, instead, to ignore it. He rose to his feet, too impatient to sit any longer, and stood by the window, allowing the frigid night's breeze to wash over him. Turning back towards Cody he debated again whether he really wanted to get himself involved, but with one look at the kid's naïve golden eyes, still framed in fading bruises, he knew it was simply unavoidable.

"You said once that those guys who were after you wanted something you had."

So quickly did an accusing look enter those strange orbs that Sam literally took a step back in amazement. Cody had shot to his feet, his fists clenching at his sides so tightly that Sam could see the tension in the grip.

"I should have known it. You're just after it too. Well you can go ahead and do whatever you want to me, because I'll die before I give up its location!" Cody stated in a voice frighteningly serious.

"You're willing to die for it?"

Despite the threat that faced him, Cody didn't back down in the slightest. He didn't even so much as flinch with Sam barely allowing an inch of space between them, surprising the older man. He couldn't believe this was the same quivering mess he had, had to keep his voice down for just days ago.

"Damn right I will," Cody replied, again without hesitation. "I promised Nathan I would protect it."

They were getting nowhere; Sam could see that. With a sigh of defeat he backed off, settling on the couch once more to Cody's astonishment.

"Whatever it is you have, I don't want it," Sam explained, reaching for another cigarette.

"What? But I thought…" Cody mumbled, no longer certain of himself.

"A long time ago someone showed me some kindness and I promised I would repay him," Sam explained after a long drag. If possible Cody looked more confused now so Sam continued as nonchalantly as possible, "That room hasn't been used in a long time, so I guess it wouldn't hurt if you used it."

At these last words a blank expression seemed to cross over the teen's face and for a heavy moment he simply stood, his head tilted slightly to the side, and looking like an idiot as Sam tried in vain to gage his thoughts.

"You," Cody finally asked, his voice soft. "You want me to come live with you?"

"Stay with me," Sam quickly corrected. "Just for a while, till you can get on your feet. That is unless there's something here you don't want to pull yourself away from?"

"No… that is I mean I would…" Cody mumbled, a red tinge creeping along his cheeks.

"Get your stuff then, we're leaving," Sam said.

He cast aside his cigarette and stood, and then on impulse he reached out and ruffled Cody's hair before turning toward the door, not looking back even as he heard Cody rush to gather his things.

FLASHBACK

A year now Cody had been staying with Nathan, sharing a room with him in the highly secured underground game house, which really amounted to a whore house. He supposed he really had no reason to complain. The room may have been small, housing nothing more then a double bed, but the place was clean. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for Nathan, Cody was sure he would have stopped feeling all together. Those first few weeks when he did nothing more than lay in bed, numbed by the realization that he had nowhere to go, and feeling like he had simply left one prison for another, it was Nathan who had taken care of him, gently and patiently coercing him back to life. He owed everything to Nathan.

With nowhere to go and nothing of any importance to do, once he finally began leaving the bedroom, Cody found himself spending most of his time sitting at the bar. For the most part Nathan stayed with him and they would pass the time playing cards on their own. Neither was allowed in the casino section of the house, although from time to time they would wander around there, watching the games when Nathan's father was out. Occasionally, Nathan would also be sent out by his father to do errands. Cody had never questioned his friend about the matter, but assumed it had to do with black market trades or maybe thefts. Whatever the case was, he had never been asked to take part and had never wanted to.

Sitting at the bar one afternoon, his head resting on his folded arms, watching the condensation slip silently down the glass of water before him, Cody waited for Nathan to come back from one of his rounds through the gaming room - on his father's orders. Ten minutes passed as such until his friend finally returned, rounding the bar to fix some drinks.

"Cody, Soren wants you to bring these to him," Nathan said, pushing the tray across the counter to him.

Cody looked up unemotionally. Of all the guests that passed through he despised Soren the most. The man would continuously pass him hungry looks from across the room – looks that made his skin crawl and sent a feeling of unease shooting up his spin.

Knowing this Nathan smiled apologetically and said, "Just give him the drinks and I'll keep an eye out for you."

Cody knew if Nathan was making him do this it was because his father had ordered him to, so he silently took up the tray and headed to the back tables of the gaming room where he knew he could find Soren. There were three other men at the table, one of which being Nathan's father, but no one except Soren looked up or acknowledged him. As he placed Soren's drink before him the man grabbed his wrist, just tight enough to keep him from leaving.

"Why rush away so soon?" Soren asked, pulling him closer. With his free hand he took hold of Cody's chin, tilting his face from side to side to inspect his eyes. "Such a beauty," he commented on a sigh.

Cody managed to jerk his face out of Soren's grasp, but that only resulted in him tightening his grip on Cody's wrist.

"I hear that you and Nathan are quite close. You must tell each other everything…what else is it that the two of you do together?" The question sounded innocent enough, but when combined with the predatory look in his eyes, it took on a sinister - dirtier - meaning.

A growl choked in his throat and he wrenched himself away from the older man. Disgusted and angry he quickly turned to leave, spotting Nathan already trying to make his way through the crowded room to reach him.

* * *

A week had passed since that last incident, but Cody still refused to leave the room. Days were unthinkably long and dull, since Nathan had been sent out by his father again and rarely got back before midnight, only to leave first thing in the morning.

It was early morning and too tired to actually sleep any longer Cody sat at the foot of the bed playing solitary. He was sure ten years were taken off his life when heavy footsteps stomped down the hall and the door to the room was thrown open. Nathan stumbled in out of breath and slammed the door shut behind him before collapsing to the floor, against the wall. Cody was off the bed in a heartbeat and at his friend's side.

"Nathan what the hell…"

Cody was quickly silenced when Nathan grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him forward, quickly explaining, "Cody there's no time, they're right behind me. Take this," Nathan shoved a cylindrical package, wrapped in plain brown paper, into his hands. Looking down at it Cody gasped when he saw that blood stained the front of his shirt where Nathan had grabbed him.

"Nat we need to get you to a hospital," Cody gasped, pushing aside his friend's jacket aside to find his whole front covered in the dark sticky liquid.

Nathan shook his head weakly and groaned out, "Go. You need to go. You have to give that to Colton Genet. Promise you won't let anyone but him have it."

"Nathan I…" Cody began weakly, but stopped once his friend's eyes darkened at him and Nat grabbed his shirt, once again pulling him forward.

"Promise!" Nathan screamed desperately. Footsteps were coming down the hall, fast approaching them.

"I promise, I promise!" Cody yelled back, tears quickly blurring his vision when Nathan's grip suddenly relaxed and a far off look glazed his eyes. "Nathan don't leave me…" he pleaded softly, grabbing his lapels and shacking him.

The footsteps were right outside, voices called loudly but it all blended together like a horrible dream in Cody's mind. He barely made it across the room when the door was once again thrown open. Standing halfway on the fire escape he turned back to see Soren enter the room, followed by two dark figures. The eyes that had once looked at him so hungrily now glared like that of a demon's.

"Get him!" Soren commanded.

Blindly Cody ran down the fire escape and through the maze of back alleys ahead. He didn't look back again until the morning when he stopped to take refuge in an abandoned dock wear-house and only then to make sure he wasn't still being followed. Collapsing behind a set of moldy stacked up crates he realized that his fingers were aching. Looking down he noticed that he had numbly been clenching to the package Nathan had given him. He hugged the coarse paper to his chest and curled himself up on the damp floor. With the image of Nathan's body etched onto his retinas he knew he would never be able to find sleep, but he needed rest. He couldn't run any more and all he could think of was a single name – Colton Genet.

END FLASHBACK


	12. Chapter 12

The kitten is Hakuryu/Jeep.

**Chapter 12: Beside You**

"Saaaaammm!" The annoying call came for the fifth time that morning.

Sam pressed shaking fingers into his temple as he desperately inhaled on his third cigarette in about as many minutes. Since the night before, Cody had once again taken to the unimaginably infuriating habit of having to be by his side at all times. For someone who was nineteen years old the teen acted like a child, making Sam almost regret his decision to keep him.

It was surprising that Cody even managed to sleep alone the night before having come to stay with him, albeit it had only been after he had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Sam to go to sleep and after begging for a light to be left on. Sam mused over this fact, wondering why Cody, in actuality a young adult despite his personality, was still afraid of the dark.

"Saaaaammm!"

A nerve beside his right eye literally twitched. He took another deep drag from the cigarette then reached for his coffee when it did nothing to settle his brooding anger. Then like a soft summer breeze, Cody's words from the other night flitted over his memory.

_You can yell now, it's okay…_

Heavy footsteps clomped down the stairs as though an entire army were invading the house, before once again he was called, louder this time. "Saaaaammm!"

"I'm in here you idiot now stop yelling like a bloody moron!" He finally yelled back, holding in nothing of his frustration.

The house fell into an eerie silence in the wake of his reply. The words seemed to ring through the air long after they could no longer be heard. Sam worried that Cody's sleep ridden statement that he could yell was nothing more than half-wake ramblings and he had just scared him back into his old habits. With a sigh he pushed back his chair, ready to apologize, when he heard soft, almost hesitant, footsteps approach the kitchen. Seeing Cody, though, a look of tempered happiness and mild embarrassment gracing his features, assured him that Cody had meant what he had said.

The teen sat down across from him, his chin resting on his folded arms across the table. Satisfied now that he had found his prize. Sam simply rolled his eyes and changed directions to look as though he had meant to get up to refill his coffee rather then check on the brat.

"What's all this?" Cody asked, sliding a paper towards himself.

Sam pulled it back as he sat down, replying, "A case I'm working on. Why don't you go watch TV or something?"

Ignoring the suggestion entirely Cody pulled another page towards him, this one of the picture Sam had managed to track down of the mysterious Hank Chogan. He watched as Cody jerked upright and examined the picture more closely, as if in disbelief of what he was seeing.

* * *

Cody checked one last time down the stairs, seeing no sign of Sam and hearing nothing, he quickly made the decision to sneak into Sam's office. He had figured the room was private and had never dared enter it unless he was keeping Sam company. Even then he never touched anything other than the stool he had claimed as his own. However, he knew Sam had a separate phone line in the room and he needed to talk to Joe without Sam overhearing, in case he got Hank in trouble.

As quietly as he could he closed the door behind himself and tip toed to the desk for the phone. Before he began dialing the number, however, he decided to step into the closet, lest he be heard. As stupid as he felt sneaking around he knew the unused space would muffle his voice and if he kept his tone down to begin with chances were that Sam would never even hear him. Sitting as he was in the dark, the ringing of the phone in his ear along with his erratic heart beat and shallow breaths all seemed to grow louder. Hiding wasn't an unknown sensation to him, however, he usually felt as though if he were caught his life was what would be in danger. Now the anxiousness he felt was more like playing hide and seek, and just very badly not wanting to be it.

Finally the ringing gave way to silence before someone on the other end answered politely, "Hello, you've reached Joe Shayne's residence."

Cody's breath caught in his chest when he immediately recognized the voice as Hank's rather than Joe's. He wasn't sure how he should ask Hank about what he was supposed to do.

"Hello?" Hank asked again, throwing Cody from his thoughts.

"Umm…Hank," he stammered, still unsure of himself.

"Cody? How are you? If you're looking for Joe he isn't back yet."

"No…well I mean…I need to ask you something?" Cody stammered, finally getting the idea to ask Hank if he knew anything about the fires before telling him Sam was looking for him.

"Are you all right Cody?"

"I'm fine, it's just that…well it's about the fires the Dark Crows started back a while ago. You wouldn't know anything about that right, Hank?"

There was a heavy pause before Hank asked, his voice now sounding desolate, "Why would you ask about that Cody?"

Cody worried on his bottom lip, thinking over his answer. Sam hadn't said Hank started the fires or anything bad for that matter. He had just said he was looking for him and that he might have some information. Cody may not have known Hank for long, but he trusted that he was a good guy. His eyes had been filled with nothing but kindness…and sorrow. He just didn't seem like a bad guy and Cody had become friends with him just as quickly as he had with Joe and Sam.

"Sam, you know the guy I'm living with…he said he was looking for you. I didn't tell him anything about you or where you are…"

Another silence fell over them and Cody worried that he might have been wrong to tell Hank everything he had.

Then Hank cleared his throat and replied in his old amiable tone, "Why don't the two of you come over tonight."

"Ah…" Cody replied, too shocked for words.

"Come around seven, Joe will be home then so we can all have dinner together."

Hank curtly said goodbye, not leaving any room for Cody to object to the meeting. He supposed he had to work up the courage to tell Sam now. As he sat with the phone receiver in hand he realized that as scared, as he was to hide in the closet, he was even more scared of leaving it and risk getting caught.

* * *

Hank took a deep breath after hanging up with Cody and, the dishes he had been washing now forgotten, he took a seat at the table to compose his thoughts. It wasn't a surprise that the police had been looking for him, nor was he scared of the inevitable fate that lay before him. He had been intending to turn himself in for whatever punishment he would face, just as soon as he was well enough to move and get around. His stitches were out now and he could move around fairly well…there was really no reason to impose on Joe any longer.

It may have been irresponsible of him to ask the detective over instead of having simply gone himself but he wanted the chance to explain that Joe had nothing to do with him and be able to defend caretaker's innocence before he found himself in shackles. Stupid perhaps, but it was the least he could do for the man that had saved his life.

With another sigh Hank stood and decided to momentarily forget about the outcome of all his actions and simply focus on the task before him of cleaning the apartment. Since leaving the room Hank had begun to notice that with the late hours Joe worked and his spare time occupied with taking care of him, the apartment had fallen into a state of disarray – take it that it had not been this way from the beginning. He also wanted to find time to go shopping and cook supper before Joe returned home. Firstly because it had been his idea to invite guests over and secondly because while most of Joe's meals were edible he didn't want to tempt fate by trying another surprise meals, thrown together from whatever ingredients Joe could find in the fridge.

After quickly finishing off the dishes and putting them away, Hank busied himself with cleaning up the growing pile of clutter. With a hint of annoyance he couldn't suppress he emptied the overflowing ashtray and washed it, then gathered up the assortment of empty beer bottles, which had also been used to snub out the butts. After having dusted and washed every surface of the kitchen and living room he commenced on restoring the bedroom back to its original self. As he would no longer be using the area he gathered up the sheets and clothes that Joe had lent him and put in a load of laundry.

By this time he was fairly tired and his wounds were throbbing from too much movement, but at least all that remained was taking out the garbage and picking up some groceries. Although most of the afternoon had been taken up by his fanatical cleaning he figured after he went shopping he would have enough time to rest for a while before he needed to start dinner. With this thought as encouragement he tied up the two garbage bags and carried them out to the large dumpster in back of the complex. It proved to be more painful then he had first suspected to lift the bags over his head and into the bin and to his chagrin he actually needed to rest against the back wall for a minute to catch his breath once he was done.

Leaning against the building, the only sounds that of his labored breathing and the frigid wind that were quite uncommon for April, he thought at first he was hallucinating when he heard a soft mewing from behind the dumpster bin. Holding his breath he waited to hear the sound again and sure enough there it was, a soft whine followed by the sounds of scratching. Hank slowly approached and driven my curiosity peeked behind the bin. So astonished was he at his find that for a moment he just stood there staring at the rat sized shape hidden in the shadows halfway behind the monstrous prison. Bright green eyes looked up at him pleadingly from the small kitten that couldn't have been more then a few weeks old before it let out another mew.

Crouching to the floor Hank tried to call it over, but the kitten simply sat, clearly shivering from fear and cold. Desperate to save the little thing Hank stretched out an arm to it, but the kitten simply cowered and drew away from his touch. Standing back up he tried to pull the bin from the wall, determined in his inanity to save the little wretch. Of course that proved futile and now all that remained of his strength had been exhausted for a mere inch or two. Looking back in the crevice he noticed the kitten inching its way along the ground toward him, still whimpering pitifully. If the kitten didn't come any closer then he decided he would just have to find a way to get closer to it.

Slowly he squeezed himself in the small space behind the bin, inching his way toward the kitten while holding his breath, partly to make his chest and stomach smaller, but mostly to keep himself from breathing in the putrid air. He couldn't squeeze himself very deep and it was painful and nearly impossible to stretch to the side and attempt to scoop up the kitten, but after several minutes in his constricted position he finally got hold of the little fur ball and backed out into the fresher air. The white kitten was no bigger than his palm and it instantly cuddled to his chest, mewing in contentment before curling into him and falling asleep as he purred.

* * *

A simple stew simmered on the stove as Hank finally found a moment to relax. He'd lined a shoebox with an old dishtowel and settled the freshly bathed kitten in the living room while he'd gone shopping. He wasn't sure Joe would want to keep the cat and he knew after tonight he wouldn't be in the position to take care of him either, so rather then purchasing a litter box he had simply shredded some old newspaper and lined the lid of the shoebox with it. For the most part the kitten stayed put, cuddled under a second dishtowel, but every now and then he would wake up and mew over the side of the box until Hank would reach over and pet him. If he didn't the kitten would climb out of the box and try unsuccessfully to climb up the side of the couch to try and reach him, all the while crying pathetically.

Right on schedule the ruckus of Joe coming home began. His heavy footsteps, the door slamming unchecked into the wall, Joe kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket aside before slamming the door shut again. The smell of alcohol, smoke, and cheap perfume also filled their surrounding, the same scent Joe would always come home with before he took his shower. Hank tried to hold in a grin as the kitten woke with a start and peeked over the side of his box to see what all the noise was.

"Hello Joe," Hank said, turning his attention to his savior.

Joe still stood by the door, a confused look gracing his features as he studied the newly cleaned surroundings. Then as though it didn't matter to him any longer he dragged his feet to the couch and ungracefully flopped himself down.

"Smells good," Joe muttered, shutting his eyes.

"I invited Cody and his new guardian over for dinner, they should be here soon," Hank replied, getting up despite the effort it took and tossing a throw pillow over Joe's face, none too gently.

He simply chuckled at the action and placed the pillow under his head, not bothering to open his eyes or comment at Hank's forwardness of inviting people into his home. He simply asked, "Where are my cigarettes?"

Hank frowned at the question. He hadn't spent all day cleaning for the room to be turned into the mess it had been with cigarette butts and beer cans all over, especially before Cody and Sam arrived. And to show Joe exactly what he thought of his smoking he slapped his friend's forehead with the palm of his hand and went to stir the stew.

* * *

Slowly making his way down the stairs Cody worried on his bottom lip as he contemplated how he would explain things to Sam. He didn't even know how to approach the subject let alone announce he had found the man Sam was searching for. With a deep sigh he turned toward the kitchen and almost to hit head long into Sam's chest. He stumbled backwards, grabbing onto the banister for support and stood frozen before the detective.

"Get your coat," was all Sam said as he brushed past him into the living room to retrieve his own coat.

"Huh…where are we going?" Cody stammered as he followed after him.

Sam didn't answer, only walked out the door, forcing Cody to follow him questioningly. They walked down the street to the subway, where Cody silently followed Sam through the underground, accepting the ticket the detective gave him and following him onto the train making very sure he stayed close and got a seat beside Sam. They stayed on for several stops, watching as the train slowly emptied till they were among only five others. Cody fidgeted on the seat, casting side-glances at Sam who sat calm as you please reading the newspaper beside him.

"Sam where are we going?" Cody questioned, his voice sounding whiny even to himself but only because he was feeling unsettled not knowing where he was going.

"Shopping," Sam answered simply.

"Huh?"

"You deaf? I said we were going shopping. You need clothes and I don't exactly have a supply of them in your size."

Cody could feel the blush rise into his cheeks and turned his head away to try and hide the coloring. He didn't have very many clothes and he supposed what he did have was becoming threadbare. However, he didn't want to impose on Sam to buy him more, not when he had already done so much for him and he had no way to pay him back.

"I don't," Cody began only to be instantly cut off.

"You do need it now shut up. This is our stop."

Sam folded his newspaper and got up, pulling Cody with him. Silently he led him out of the maze of the underground and down the streets of a downtown-shopping district. Finally they reached a store Sam seemed to approve of and took the elevator to the men's department on the second floor.

Sam nudged him forward when he stopped at the entrance of the store and commanded, "Go pick things out. You need tops, sweaters, pants, and a good jacket. After this we're going to a shoe store."

The color in his cheeks only deepened at Sam's frankness, but he had no chance to object because Sam instantly walked away to the counter where he began saying something to the sales lady. Hesitantly Cody wandered the store and quickly found a pair of jeans. Looking at the price tag he gasped and quickly swiveled his head to where Sam stood watching him. He was uncertain and felt out of place and didn't like the looks the sales woman was casting his way, he as though he didn't belong there and given the chance she would have instantly kicked him out.

As though feeling all this from him Sam came to stand beside him and searched the rack for a size that would fit him then handed it to the sales lady who stood a few steps behind him.

"Wrap this up," he commanded her and she instantly left to do as told.

Again Cody bit down on his lower lip, guilt now added to the mélange of feelings consuming him.

A grin briefly graced Sam's lips before he ruffled Cody's hair and steered him to the next rack. "Just pick what you want and stop worrying about everything."

* * *

Cody found himself sitting on the bed, surrounded by things he would have previously never even thought of getting, for the simple fact that he didn't have the money to and even if he did too much luggage had a tendency to weigh him down when on the run. Cody realized for the first time just how lucky he was that Sam found him. He felt safe with him and provided for; it was like having a big brother mixed up with a father, but most importantly Sam was a friend. After years of only having Nathan as a friend and then later only the memory of him it was nice now that he had three people that cared whether he disappeared or not.

Once again he ran his hands over the stiff new jeans and pulled the sleeves of his new sweater lower over his fingers. The second they got home Sam made him throw away all his old things, saying that they were useless to begin with. He hadn't wanted to waist everything, but at his protests Sam had taken his bag and disposed of the whole thing himself. Cody supposed it wasn't really a loss; the bag had more duct tape than fabric at this point and it hadn't even been new when he's first gotten it. In any case, Sam had gotten him a really nice replacement earlier that morning. Cody hadn't expected it, but Sam had even taken him to a book shop where he was allowed to pick a few titles he wanted, along with magazines and CDs. It may have been childish and immature, but he had honestly felt spoiled.

Flopping back on the bed Cody took in the time on the alarm clock on his nightstand. He still needed to tell Sam about Hank and the invitation to dinner. He had gotten so caught up in the shopping it had almost slipped his mind. Almost. With a reluctant sigh he pushed himself back up and made his way to the study where Sam had locked himself up the moment they got back. He first pushed the door open just wide enough to peek his head through and spotted Sam in deep concentration at his desk. With another sigh he unwillingly stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him and taking his seat on his usual stool. Sam didn't break stride in his search or acknowledge his presence, not that Cody minded, it gave him a chance to formulate what he would say.

"Sam…you know this morning when I saw that picture?" Cody began, self-consciously pulling his sleeves down over his hands again. From his peripheral vision he could see Sam suddenly stop his work and watched as he leaned back in his seat, his attention now focused on him as he lit up a cigarette. Earlier that morning Sam had tried to ask him about the picture, but he'd refused to answer any questions regarding Hank. "Well that guy…I…I know where he is," he muttered, now unable to look Sam in the eyes.

Sam silently chewed over this new information. From Cody's manner he figured the teen probably knew Hank Chogan and giving up his whereabouts wasn't easy for him. Just how much did he know about the situation and how long had the two of them known each other? While he silently smoked he contemplated the best way to get the most information without scaring Cody away or silent. It seemed though that he needn't have bothered with worrying about questions because Cody, although reluctant, provided a means for answers to any question he may have had.

"I told him about you and he said he wanted to meet you and talk to you. So we have to go to Joe's tonight for supper."

It seemed this mystery was finally coming to a close.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: At Least I Know I'm A Sinner**

Joe sat in silence, smoking on the couch while Hank kept himself silently busy with dinner. Ever since he had gotten home the atmosphere in the apartment had felt heavy and foreboding. He wasn't quite sure why, but Hank seemed on edge. Everything he had said had been with a note of finality and goodbye, such as when he explained that he had cleaned the sheets Joe had been using on the couch and put them away since he would be getting his bed back shortly. Joe had tried to ask him whether he was planning on leaving or not, especially since the doctor said he needed a months rest and it had hardly been so. He didn't think Hank had a home, let alone a family and so, despite the fact that he didn't want to, he worried about what would happen to him if he did chose to leave.

Looking over his shoulder he watched as Hank set the table, the little kitten he had found sitting by his feet, crying to be held. The sight was almost laughable, but Joe figured if the kitten should decide to attach itself to anyone Hank was the perfect choice. Predictably, Hank bent down and scooped up the runt, cuddling him to his chest with one hand as he continued setting the table with the other. The kitten instantly cuddled into his touch and stopped his whining, curling up in Hank's palm as though it meant to fall asleep.

"Did you think of a name for him yet?" Joe asked, leaning over to flick his ashes into the newly cleaned ashtray on the floor at his feet.

"No. I didn't think there was any point," Hank replied, his tone subdued as he glanced down at the little creature he had clearly already fallen in love with, and patted his head.

Joe was about to ask him what he meant by that when the sound of the doorbell interrupted any further conversation. Waving his hand shortly, as though in dismissal of the conversation, he snubbed out his cigarette and went to open the door. The first thing he noticed was the imposing presence of the detective then two steps behind him the meek, hunched figure of Cody.

Rage boiled under the surface once more as a protective sense overcame him. He chastised himself that he should never have allowed the moronic teen to be left in the care of a stranger whom he didn't even trust, but then as they stepped forward into the light of the house he noticed that Cody's clothes seemed new and he wasn't looking unhealthily thin anymore. Then as though he had come to a conclusion Joe watched as he straightened his shoulders with determination and walked ahead of Sam into the apartment.

"Sam this is my friend, Joe, and this is Hank," he introduced.

It didn't surprise him that the detective didn't give him more then a passing head node of recognition as they had already met once before, but it seemed awkward that Hank and he stared at each other from opposite ends of the room for a long moment. In mirror to Cody's actions, Joe stood to the side of the staring contest, unsure of what was going on and unsure of whether he should do something to stop it.

Then as though the two shared an inside secret Hank cleared his throat and breaking the silence said, "Hello detective, it's nice to finally meet you. I understand you have a lot to ask me."

"I'm sure you were expecting this sooner or later," Sam replied just as cryptically.

Hank gave a knowing smile and placed the kitten down on the couch, where it instantly woke and stared up at him, confused at having lost the warmness of the protective hand. "I wasn't running if that's what you think detective."

"That's it, I want to know what the hell is going on," Joe demanded, stepping between the tense battle zone of the two men.

"Joe," Hank began solemnly, not able to look him in the eyes. "I'm thankful for everything that you've done for me, but the truth is that I've done terrible things and I need to atone for them now."

"This is bullshit!" He shot back in anger.

"Joe," Hank tried once again to reason.

"No, this is bullshit and you know it! What could you have possibly done…"

His tirade was instantly silenced when Hank finally raised his gaze and replied sullenly, "I killed them. I killed them like they killed her." A smile graced his features, but in place of happiness there was a melancholy sorrow as he shrugged and commented, "Revenge isn't so sweet after all."

Only Cody and Joe seemed to be shocked by Hank's confession as Sam still stood, stoic as a statue, as he lit a cigarette. Joe angrily cast his gaze from the destitute man who had resigned himself to a fate of hell, to the demon who would lead him straight to the gate. Before he could formulate words to describe the turmoil he felt inside, Cody stepped forward and clutched Sam's sleeve.

"Sam," he whined, tugging on the other's sleeve. "Sam do we have to take him in? I mean he doesn't seem like that bad a guy."

Shaking off the teen's grip he replied, "I may not like it, but this is my job. It's up to the police to decide what will happen to him."

Both Cody and Joe opened their mouths in protest, but Hank stepped forward and said, "It's all right. I did what I did knowing the consequences. I'll go quietly with you now."

In reply Sam jerked his chin towards the door then turned to Cody. The teen numbly looked up at him, his golden eyes wide in confusion and guilt. It was much the same look that was reflected in Joe's amber eyes.

"Cody stay here tonight, I'll come back and get you tomorrow," was the last thing said before both men left.

* * *

Hank followed silently; his mind blissfully blank, although his heart was no less weighed down. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting to feel after confessing, but he supposed now he had been hoping for some relief. All he felt was a greater sense of death, of mental numbness that he hadn't been able to achieve until this very moment. He sighed and turned back to the home that had protected him these past few weeks, wanting one last look. Through the window he saw Joe and Cody anxiously looking after them and he briefly thought he heard a pathetic mew.

_Ah! I forgot to ask Joe to bring him to a shelter. I hope he doesn't dump him back out on the street. _

"Detective Genet, Joe has nothing to do with this. He doesn't know who I am or what I did. I know I'm in no position to ask you for anything, but please can you make it so that he's left out of this. I don't want him to get into any trouble because of me," Hank asked before entering the car.

"I won't say anything about him so the decision is entirely up to you," Sam replied.

"Thank you."

* * *

Cody sat at the kitchen table, his head resting against his folded arms while his breakfast grew ever colder. It had been an hour since Sam had picked him up, but they had barely looked at each other let alone spoken. Sam had refused, point-blank, to answer any of his questions and Joe had chosen to forget the incident and return to life as it had previously been. Cody hadn't been able to say more than a handful of words to either men and now found it difficult to even meet their gazes. He couldn't erase the feeling of guilt over his betrayal of Hank.

"Eat," Sam commanded, coming up behind him and shoving his head none too gently towards the staling toast before him.

"What do you think is going to happen to him?" Cody asked, the food still carelessly forgotten. "I know what he said, but… he just didn't seem like that bad a guy."

Sam gave no indication that he heard other than to clench his jaw and roughly flip the page of the paper.

Enraged Cody slammed his fists on the table and shouted, "You should have let him go!"

"That's not my job!" Sam shouted back in a tone that brooked no further arguments.

His cheeks tinted in both anger and embarrassment. Cody bit down on his lower lip and shoved the plate before him away in the only act of defiance he could muster then rested his head on his folded arms again, refusing to look at Sam.

With a long-suffering sigh Sam folded the paper and finished the last of his coffee. As he pushed himself from the table he checked his pockets for his keys and glance at his watch one last time. Cody, forgetting his anger, perked up instantly, his eyes watching Sam's every move with curious expectation.

"Where are we going?" he asked without hesitation.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at him before answering, "I have work to do and as for you… you're staying here."

"That's not fair! I want to come too," Cody whined, distantly realizing he sounded like a child again and not even sure why he was persisting.

Sam turned to leave, angrily throwing over his shoulder, "You're just going to get in the way."

By the time Cody thought to chase after him Sam was already in his car, pulling from the drive. All he could do was cast him the finger from his place in the doorway and hope that Sam had been looking out the window and caught site of him. With building frustration he watched the car turn out of site around the corner, but the feeling didn't last long. Being outside, the sun for once tentatively poking through the dark clouds and warming his face, should have been a pleasant experience, but instead a bone deep shiver was climbing up his limbs as though the fingers of death were dancing along his skin. The fine hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood on end and he nervously cast his gaze around the street looking for the cause. Life seemed to pass as normal, however. Then all at once Cody became aware that he hadn't left the house without Sam by his side since he had moved in with him.

His throat tightened instantly at the sight of the back bumper vanishing, which was quickly followed by the uncontrollable feeling of being watched. Twisting his head around in a jerk that pulled at the tight tendons in his neck, it became clear that the only proof he had was the tingling of his hair standing on end.

He didn't waist a second in slamming the door shut and locking it before backing away into the living room. He rushed to slam the blinds shut lest someone was there and saw him. The room was washed in darkness, the house swollen in silence but still the fear thrummed through his veins, demanding attention…taking control.

Cody stumbled away from the window wanting nothing more than to feel the old security of Sam's house. However, his anxiety continued to mount to the point where it felt as though his mind had gone numb. He couldn't focus on anything except the pounding of his heart throbbing through his ears and the suffocating grip of fear. His limbs began shaking like they hadn't in months. He fisted his hands, determined to calm himself, but already he was feeling weak and before he knew it bile was threatening to rise.

He barely managed to stumble to the bathroom in time. Gasping, his tongue heavy with the putrid taste of the throw-up, he collapsed against the wall beside the toilet. He couldn't stop his body from shaking and the only comfort he got came from pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging his shins. Unable to control himself he didn't even bother to check the tears that began flowing.

* * *

The instant Sam pulled up to the house he could have sworn he sensed something was wrong. He slowly came up the walk glancing at the shut curtains. He knew for sure he hadn't left them like that and he couldn't understand why Cody would close them, especially considering his quirk of constantly needing to look outside. Trying the handle he found the door was locked as well. He had not left Cody alone since he'd moved in, but he didn't see Cody's need to lock the door. Even ignoring these signs, the moment he walked into the house he could feel the shift in atmosphere. Tentatively closing the door behind him Sam walked into the living room.

"Cody?" he called, purposely checking his voice to keep it calm and unthreatening.

Nothing but silence ensued.

"Cody!" he called again, consciously keeping his steps at a normal pace should his aggravated stomping alarm the teen.

Before moving upstairs, after having systematically searched the main floor, he stopped outside the bathroom. He couldn't say what had led him there, but leaning in he was surprised at the scene that awaited him. Cody was huddled on the floor beside the toilet, visibly trembling and softly sniffling back tears. Sympathetically Sam knelt down beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Cody's head jerked up at the touch, his wild eyes visibly struggling to process what they saw.

"Sam…" he chocked in a little above a frail breath.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded while once again consciously attempting to calm his tone.

Cody chocked as a fresh batch of tears flowed freely and attempted to answer, "You…you left me…and I… I just…"

The wracking sobs became too much to understand through so Sam quickly silenced him, pulling him forward to rest against his chest. It was a long time that they sat there on the bathroom floor, Sam gently comforting Cody until the room fell silent save for their steady breathing.

"How can I leave an idiot like you alone?" Sam mumbled, not caring either way if Cody heard or not.

"I thought I felt them," was the timid reply that followed.

_What the hell?_

"I thought they were going to come for me…"

Before Sam could question Cody pulled away and ran the back of his hand across his face to dry the tears. An audible grumble echoed in the silence of his strange confession, making the teen blush.

"Sorry, I haven't eaten yet."

Cody quickly got to his feet, ready to make his escape to the kitchen, but before he could take more then a step Sam grabbed hold of his arm. The two studied each other for a moment; Sam's gaze steady and searching while Cody's contained a trace of lingering fear. His eyes were swollen and red but nonetheless alert and wary beyond his years. At this site Sam's questions died on his lips and with a sigh he released the teen and got up himself.

"Clean up and I'll take you out for lunch."

It came as a relief to see the sparkle of excitement enter those golden orbs once more, and so Sam left him with an easy mind. He waited patiently in the living room, lighting a cigarette and theorizing what could have caused such unexpected fear. He went over every brief conversation they'd ever had.

_I have something they want… I'll die before I give up its location… I promised Nathan I would protect it…_

Hearing Cody's steps stomping down the stairs, as energetically as though he hadn't just spent the day hunched by the toilet, Sam stubbed out his cigarette. If not for the bloodshot eyes no trace would remain of the hysteria from just moments ago. Excitement over lunch seemed all that remained and not wanting a repeat of what had just happened, Sam chose to wait a while longer with his questions.

_I thought they were going to come for me…_

"Where are we going?" Cody asked all impatience once more.

He quickly ran to the door only to stop, his fingers grasping the small ledge of the window and peaking through to see up and down the street. Sensing the uneasiness rising again Sam quickly reached up into the closet and grasped one of the baseball caps from his distant youth, planting it onto Cody's head.

"Huh?"

Cody reached a hand up to the hat, pushing back the brim, which Sam had placed too low. His confused gaze searched Sam's for an answer; so childlike and innocent it was hard to imagine that he had been living on his own for years.

"So they won't recognize you," was all the explanation Sam gave and which was rewarded with an instant smile of understanding and appreciation.


	14. Chapter 14

Lee - Lirin

Karl - Kougaiji

Yana - Yaone

**Chapter 14: All These Things That I've Done**

Any lingering trace of the strange fearfulness of earlier had long since gone. Cody had seemed to have a large appetite, which Sam had indulged and had even allowed himself to be persuaded to take a walk in the park, all in an attempt to avoid another scene as the one he had walked in on. Sam couldn't tell if it had been on purpose or not, but Cody had been very careful to keep the conversation off of him self and what had just happened. Now that Sam settled on a bench in the shade, Cody standing beside him awkwardly shifting his weight between both feet, it was clear that the time had come to begin asking serious questions.

Sam took the extra time of silence to light a cigarette, watching from the corner of his eye as Cody worried his lower lip before looking at him and demanding desperately, "Are you going to kick me out because of what happened?"

"No," Sam replied simply, but without hesitation, "but we need to talk."

"Um," Cody mumbled, rubbing his right hand down his left arm childishly. "You want to know about the package right?"

Sam tossed his cigarette aside to keep every ounce of attention focused on Cody but gave no verbal reply.

"Well…a lot of people want the package that Nathan gave to me. I've been managing to keep bellow the radar till a few weeks before I meet you. Some men caught up with me and they…that is he had me…"

Cody's downcast eyes and slight shift in attitude had Sam remembering the burn marks adorning the youth's entire middle, the black eyes, hand shaped bruises - of course he had been torture for the package - whatever that might be. The same one that Sam knew Cody was ready to die for.

"So what is this thing that you're trying to protect?"

Cody's eyes quickly cast down again to avoid his before he replied in a weak voice, "I dunno, he died before he said and I never opened it…"

With a sigh Sam sank back against the backrest of the bench, reaching for another cigarette. He knew that Cody was quite strong, however, how much longer could anyone try avoiding someone that had eyes everywhere and a God like strength that could not only crush a person, but erase any knowledge of their ever having existed as well.

"You're such an idiot, you masochistic gay boy," he mumbled out.

Cody's eyes shot wide at the insult, a burning rage replacing his uncertainty and fear. "I am not!" he argued, loud enough to send a crow into flight with an indignant cry. "How could you even say such a thing?"

"Please, you're ready to die and you don't even know what you're protecting. All for the sake of keeping some promise to someone who's long since dead and wouldn't even know the difference."

"How is that any different from you!" Cody challenged to Sam's surprise. "You said the only reason you took me in was to repay someone who had been nice to you a long time ago. I bet that was even longer then this."

A silence fell between the two of them and Sam couldn't help chuckling at the truth.

_We make a real fucking team, the two of us._

As quickly as a lull fell in the conversation it was broken. The events that followed came in such quick succession that neither could process it fully, nor could Cody avoid it. Thrown back onto the ground, the wind knocked out of him, and the pressure still heavy on his chest Cody tried desperately to call out to Sam. The cry died in his throat, however, when a long tongue snaked out, catching him across the lips in a streak of sticky drool.

His eyes shot open and he found himself staring up at two rows of sharp fangs, dripping with more drool. As the tongue lashed out again Cody managed to turn his head, catching the mutt's kiss across his cheek instead. Tilting his head back in an effort to avoid any further contact, he tried to push the beast off him. He could have sworn he heard Sam laughing at him and swore to himself to get Sam back for not bothering to even help.

"Dragon stop it!" a shrill voice yelled, out of breath and with an undertone of panic. "Come here!"

All Cody saw was a pair of slender legs as the dog was pushed off him. The over enthusiastic dog attempted to climb right back on but a firm command of 'sit' thankfully stopped him. Running a sleeve across his face, Cody rolled to his knees, recapturing his new baseball cap and readjusting it.

"I'm sorry, Dragon just kind of got away," the girl said, her voice docile and concerned as she helped him up.

Cody had never been good at guessing ages, but he could tell the girl was mature. Although, she couldn't be more than five feet tall she showed off her creamy-smooth skin in a pair of short, hip hugging black shorts and a corset like top that hugged a full chest. Her face, however, looked youthful with innocent green eyes, framed by auburn hair and enhanced by a small patch of freckles scattered across her nose.

"It's okay," Cody mumbled, supposing he could range her age anywhere between fourteen and, at a stretch, seventeen. Turning from the girl he cast his darkest scowl at Sam mumbling, "You're such a bastard, you know that?"

The girl followed his gaze and caught sight of Sam for the first time. "Detective! What are you doing here?"

"Much the same as you…walking a mutt," Sam replied dryly around a cigarette.

Cody's hands fisted at the jibe, but all he could muster in retaliation was another muttered 'bastard'. Sam ignored him and instead directed the next question at the girl.

"Where's your brother, Lee?"

The girl's lips pulled into a pout and she crossed her arms over her chest, thrusting her cleavage up higher.

"He's working. Real work! At the club," she emphasized pointedly, although Cody didn't understand what exactly she was trying to emphasize.

Without warning her gaze shifted again to Cody's, filled with suspicion and her hands braced on her hips, as she asked, "How do you know the detective?"

"Uh…I…" he mumbled, confused at the shift in the conversation.

"He's living with me," Sam replied for him before taking another drag.

Lee's eyebrows shot up under her bangs and, slowly lowering her arms to her sides, she studied Cody with an intensity that brought a blush to his cheeks and made him shift uncomfortably. He wasn't sure what she was thinking but felt the need to explain himself.

"He…he's letting me stay in his spare room until…until I find someone…"

So it wasn't actually the truth. He had no idea how long Sam would let him stay or how long it would be till he found another lead to Colton Genet. But Sam had said he wasn't kicking him out and that he wouldn't leave him alone.

"No shit?" she questioned in a matter of fact tone.

The look of suspicion had flown from her eyes, replaced again with excitement. Cody didn't particularly like the way her change in moods threw him so off kilter.

Dragon whined pitifully, pawing at Cody's ankles, his tail wagging manically and giving him the appearance that he'd pounce in a moment. Cody reached down to pet the mutt in hopes of avoiding another tongue bath.

Lee grabbed his other arm and tried to pull him away, explaining when he refused to budge, "Let's go play with him."

Tentatively Cody allowed himself to be pulled away, looking back at Sam for his approval. Sam gave a small nod, crossing one ankle over his knee, and settling back comfortably in show that he didn't mind staying a while. Sam watched Cody shed his hesitation at his permission. The two seemed to take quickly to each other. Running with wild abandon as the dog cut between the two of them.

* * *

"So…how do you know Sam?" Cody asked as he sat beside Lee on a boulder, Dragon now puffing at their feet.

"My brother and I live right beside you guys. Well I mean…he's my half brother…" Lee frowned. Before Cody could even contemplate asking anything Lee jumped right into the story of her own accord. "You see my brother's mom was married to my dad, but he cheated with my mom and they had me. Karl's mom, my bro's mom, she died and my dad's incarcerated so now my mom's pressuring Karl into taking over dad's business.

"Uh…"

"But Karl's not bad! He's just…Ah Yana's here already!"

In another whirlwind of emotions the heaviness of the conversation was instantly lifted as she hopped off the rock and waved frantically at a young women approaching them. With a quick goodbye Lee was off, Dragon snapping at her heels playfully. Cody watched the way the brunette greeted Lee; catching her in a hug and swinging the young girl around once before they hugged each other and walked away laughing. He was snapped from his thoughts when Sam came up behind him and flicked his cap down over his eyes.

"Come on, let's go home," Sam said, walking ahead of him and making Cody jog to catch up.

* * *

Slowly Hank stretched out on the small, thin cot. His fingers curled around the blanket, desperate for something solid to grasp, as he tried to stretch out the tightness in his muscles. It was useless, every time he closed his eyes his mind instantly filled with nightmares, however, he did find the images were quick to leave once he awoke and were replaced, in stead, with the strange conversation that had occurred during his arrest.

FLASHBACK

Hank distantly registered the sound of the metal doors rustle open and bang shut again. He didn't turn to see who had come nor did he care. Although the pain in his heart kept a steady pressure in his chest his mind was blissfully blank. After waking in a cold sweat in the early hours of the morning – bloody visions of his love haunting his soul – he had fixed his mind to concentrate on his breathing and little else. All his efforts were lost, however, when a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

"So I hear you're pleading guilty," detective Genet commented as he rounded the table and settled himself in the spot opposite Hank.

Hank followed his movements with his eyes before his shock wore off, then he replied, "Yes. I have no need to drag this out, in fact I'd rather get it done with as soon as possible."

"Your hearing is in two days, do you have a lawyer?" Sam asked conversationally, relaxing in his seat and pulling out a cigarette as though this were nothing more than a trivial conversation between amiable acquaintances.

"I thought I'd go with whoever they appoint me."

Sam waved off the suggestion, pulling his cigarette away between his fingers and releasing the smoke. Hank wasn't sure what to make of his presence. He hadn't hesitated to answer any and all questions the police had for him, so Sam couldn't have been there as some means to information. Judging from the detectives behaviour of the other night, while he may have been on good terms with the chief of police, he was no less a busy man with little time to waste.

"Those burnouts will be just as eager for a quick trial, with no care for justice or ethics. I know a good lawyer for you. First thing he'll do is make sure you get a psychological evaluation."

At this Hank opened his mouth ready to protest, but then thought better of it. It was not a sane thing for a man to kill off nearly a dozen people and to continuously replay their deaths in his mind. For all he knew, maybe even the visions he had of Hannah were insane delusions as well. It didn't really bother him to be considered insane. Whether he ended up in jail for life or a mental institution, none of it mattered. Behind bars or not he would always be in a prison so long as Hannah was gone, at least this way he would be atoning in the eyes of the law as well. He had no hope for atoning religiously – he had never truly believed in God and wouldn't begin now…not one who had killed his beloved and yet would forgive her murderers if only they prayed. There was no logic to it. The hypocrisy of it all was foolish, but at least he knew he was a sinner.

"Next thing is to speed up the trial. The district will be hard pressed to find evidence against you, so it'll be easier to convince them you were temporarily insane."

"Is that what you think," Hank asked softly, studying his hands before his gaze strayed slightly to the prominent veins on his wrists. Small scabs had formed over the two parallel cuts.

_Proof of my insanity?_

"Was it just…?"

"That's not for me to decide," Sam replied quickly if not harshly, as he stabbed out his butt in the dented aluminum ashtray. "I'm just here to offer my help."

END FLASHBACK

A month had passed in which Hank moved in a fog, just this side of living. He went through the motions of life with little feeling, still haunted by the dreams of what he'd done, although some nights it felt as though he could repress the memories quite successfully.

Sam came daily and discussed everything with him and the lawyer. Helped him in every aspect possible and in a small way it was a comfort to know that he hadn't been abandoned and simply written off as a psychopathic criminal. As Sam had previously told him the lawyer did indeed have him take a psychological evaluation. From what he had overheard later on between the doctor and detectives was that he was not necessarily mentally ill, however he was without a doubt mentally unhealthy. They claimed he suffered from post-traumatic stress as well as suicidal depression and possibly borderline personality disorder. The latter seemed out of place in his mind but he was beginning to think he couldn't trust much when it came to his mind.

The doctor went on to say much of what he already knew about himself. That his initial reaction was due to self-defense and the later was without a doubt on temporary insanity. They claimed he was suppressing his emotions as a self-defense mechanism as he was filled with denial and regret on top of a strong sense of guilt.

Hank didn't allow himself to listen to more of the explanation, as it seemed unreal to listen to someone who claimed they understood him more than he understood himself. In relative privacy he had once tried to explain this to Sam. The detective had listened patiently and simply advised him to stay silent; to 'let them get him out of there first'. Little by little it seemed the regret was fading. He would never be free of his guilt, but he slowly came to think that maybe he didn't need to be in prison to repent. His one consoling thought was that he would go to hell no matter what so prison or not made little difference in the scheme of life.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: Standing All Alone**

Life had fallen back into place, after Hank's departure, easier than it should have. The kitten was all that remained of his short stay. Joe had managed to convince himself that he simply hadn't had the time to bring the runt to a shelter, but truthfully he enjoyed the small amount of company. Work had resumed as per usual, however, he had yet to fully embrace his nightly entertainment. Using the kitten as an excuse he had continued to forgo cards and trysts for quiet solitude.

As his shift came to an end he grabbed his jacket from behind the bar and made his way towards the door, feeling no pull whatsoever to the fun of the outer back rooms. The only thought on his mind was that he should probably call and check up on Cody. It was a bit of a surprise actually, that the cranky detective had managed to drag him from his shell. Cody had become vibrant and enthusiastic like he had never seen; although it irked him some that the teen now hung like a second shadow around the elder.

He was caught off guard when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the snaking of a pair of lithe arms around his middle, which traveled seductively upwards in a caress. A full chest was pressed against his back and warm breath moistened his neck before a trail of kisses slid up to his ear. A tongue playfully darted out before teeth softly grasped the delicate flesh of his lobe and nibbled suggestively.

"You've been quick to run out of here all month. What's a girl to think?" came a throaty whisper in his ear, sending the sensitive hairs on the back of his neck on end.

His captor slid against his side till they faced each other then slipped her arms up to embrace his neck. Feeling the begining pull of desire Joe slipped his hands up to bury them in the thick wavy chestnut hair before him. He bent to lay kisses on a porcelain neck that instantly tilted to allow him better access. He allowed himself to get lost in the caress, sucking deeply from the sweet nectar of her mouth, pushing his tongue enticingly deeper and reveling in the satisfying moan that reverberated through him.

He pulled back to nip at her lower lip before murmuring against her temple, "A pretty thing like you shouldn't have any worries."

"Well what's a girl to think when you leave her like that? You're not settling down are you?"

The distant feeling of having wanted to – of still wanting to – settle down crept along his conscience, playing through his mind in a disturbing loop. He had been feeling the tug for years, distantly aware that he craved a sedentary life. He yearned for acceptance, love and most greatly a spot in the chaos of the world. Once abandoned with nothing, he had strove to make his own place, which he carved out of a lonely corner of nowhere. He supposed all the strange occurrences that had happened lately was making the yearning increase, but after years of oppression it now felt alien and out of place.

He placed another possessive kiss on the bruised lips offered to him and finally replied, "No. I couldn't keep away for long, you know that." Then he remembered the kitten at home and rather than explain he felt the need to tease. "But I have been spending time with a dysfunctional blonde, an impulsive and excitable little airhead and I had an emotional head-case with a pretty face shack up with me for a while."

He couldn't help but laugh at the look of outrage and confusion shot up at him. Without glancing back he turned and left the madness of the bar, sighing deeply once hitting the pavement outside. Although the rain had stopped as of late the weather tended to still become cold at night. Tonight wasn't uncomfortably so, therefore Joe took his time getting home as appose to his usual quick step to escape the harsh and unpredictable weather. Neither did he dawdle, though, knowing the kitten hadn't eaten all day.

Although he left food for the little runt and kept the litter clean, the pest simply refused to do anything but sit by the door, waiting as though he expected someone else to come home. Just as he expected, when Joe opened the door upon arriving home the little runt was right there, greeting him with a weak meow. Joe reached down to pet the kitten that tangled itself in his legs, craving a little affection, but after a quick rub the kitten moved back to the door and stared at the slab of wood expectantly. Joe wished he could pretend he didn't know why, but the kitten had been doing the same thing everyday since Hank had left. Never did he venture further into the apartment then a few steps worth. Joe had realized the very first night that he had to move the bed, litter, and food just so the little pest could continue to survive as he wasted his time in a futile wait.

Ignoring the kitten, Joe stepped into the kitchen, searching his fridge for something to eat. He was in no mood to cook, even if the meager selection would have allowed him too, so instead he grabbed a beer and headed for the cabinet where he kept a stack of tuna cans for the kitten. He supposed he should have bought real cat food, but that felt as though the relationship would have been permanent and he still liked to fool himself into thinking he wasn't going to keep the kitten. Taking a swig from his can he walked back to the doorway, placing the food on the floor. The kitten ignored it, but Joe wasn't worried. He had also discovered that the kitten, when driven by an obviously insuppressible hunger, would come for the treat.

Plopping down on the floor by the kitten, relishing another soothing swig of the bitter and yeast flavored drink, Joe reached out his hand to try and push the kitten from its spot. The white fur ball whined at his antics and he couldn't help but chuckle at the accusing eyes aimed his way. The kitten had his ears flattened to his head, his eyes downcast in an angry look, but the effect was ruined by the bright pink nose that, not matter how old the cat became, would always make him look young.

"He's not coming back," Joe, stated flatly, "get over it."

He sat for a while longer once his beer was finished, deafened by the white silence in the apartment before he finally made the decision to go to bed.

_I'm being ridiculous too I guess. I should kick the thing out and get back to my life…_

* * *

Hank shifted in the uncomfortable wooden seat, but no matter which way he leaned the restrictive armrests got in the way, circling him like a cheep imitation full-body handcuff. His hands lay folded on his lap, free of their real restrictions for the time being. He hadn't realized just how inconvenient they had been. His wrists still tingled from the pressure of the cuffs from when he had been driven to the courthouse.

The room was spacious but empty, cast in the early morning golden haze that reflected the dust particles floating in the air. Like a beam of light they ran down from the high windows, giving the feeling of being in an old church, however in place of an alter there stood the judges podium. Aside from his lawyer and the prosecution the only other people there were Detective Genet and the chief of police, both of which sat directly behind him. The detective had managed to bribe the media into absentia and had arranged it so that his name would not be disclosed either. Should he be set free then he would be able to live on relatively normally, no one truly knowing what he had done, no one gawking at him as he passed by on the streets. All that remained now was to sit patiently as the judge decided his fate.

* * *

Hank kneeled on the cold ground, feeling as dead as the stone he now faced. His hands fisted before him and he bit down on his lower lip in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the pain he felt inside. There was no love in the words carved before him, no words of caring or remorse, no sympathetic angels or even a cross …just simple letters declaring a name and dates. Neither would mean anything to anyone and after he was gone would probably be forgotten all together. Still Hank was grateful to the benefactor who had, had enough empathy to see through this while he was incapable.

"I'm sorry for your loss," came the curt words of the detective, although they were not unkind.

After the judge had declared his deeds a moment of temporary insanity and self defense, and had judged him to be not guilty, Mr. Genet had graciously offered to take him to Hannah's grave. There they now were, Hank kneeling while the detective stood behind him patiently waiting.

_I don't even have flowers to offer her…_

At the thought Hank had to bit down harder on his lip, not even flinching when the soft tissue gave way and his mouth instantly filled with the metallic taste of his own blood. He bent his head, letting his outgrown hair shield his face from the detective so he wouldn't notice the glassed look in Hank's eyes.

_What will I do without you angel…_

As though in a morbid sense the detective had read his thoughts he asked, "So what will you do now that you're free?"

He had to clear his throat twice before he calmed himself down enough to answer. "I don't know," he muttered, his voice still low and fragile, ready to break with tears in a heartbeat. "Teaching isn't exactly much of an option anymore…I doubt anyone would hire a killer…"

The detective cleared his throat and another heavy silence descended between them. Hank tentatively brushed his hand over the smooth graving of Hannah's name. Aside from the small tingle in his palm all he felt was cold. He tried to bring up a memory of her warmth, to feel her in his arms, comforting him, but all he could remember was her limp body and the warmth of her blood as he pressed her to his chest. He wished rather than hoped that in time he could suppress those memories enough to unleash the happier ones. To remember her smile and her angelic laugh as appose to only the nightmare of their last night together. Had he told her he loved her that day? Did she know she was the world to him?

_Please…please let there be a God so that he can have taken Hannah to heaven…_

"Where will you go?" Detective Genet asked, reminding Hank that he wasn't alone.

He quickly brushed a sleeve over his eyes and replied as steadily as he could, "I grew up a couple hours from here. Maybe I can go back for a little while…"

"And a job?" the detective pressed again.

"I don't know," Hank replied, his voice low and laced with fear and uncertainty of where his life was to go from now on.

"What if," the detective hesitated and Hank half turned his head, showing he was listening. "What if I offered you a position?"

The question was so sudden and unexpected that Hank turned fully to look up at the detective. Mr. Genet had his hands loosely resting in the pockets of his black suit pants, looking as though he hadn't just stated an earth-shaking proposal. Hank wasn't even sure it was right for him to expect such an offer.

"Cody told me he had dropped out of school at fourteen. I'd like you to personally tutor him in his high school studies and prepare him for college."

* * *

Hank had honestly never thought he'd be facing Joe's building again. Now with the weathered brick ominously present before him, standing before the paint chipped door he only remembered ever seeing when he was leaving, he felt more unsure then he could ever remember feeling. He didn't know what possessed him to ask Mr. Genet to drop him off here, and he wasn't even sure Joe would be home, but he didn't have anywhere else to go and the home that had protected him during his recovery had felt safe. He supposed he just wanted another glimmer of that in his life now that everything else seemed unsteady and unpredictable.

Tentatively he knocked on the door, waiting patiently, at a loss for what he would say should Joe actually be home. He thought he heard a small shuffling and mewing. After a minute when no one answered he tried knocking again. He supposed he hadn't really given any thought to what he would do if Joe weren't home. It was getting late and he had no money…he supposed he could wander to Joe's work. He had said the club wasn't too far, but then what to do once he got there? Impose on the man more then he already had?

Desperate this time Hank knocked again, louder, and knew for sure that he was not imagining the mewing from before. The soft whines had turned into indignant meows and small nails scratched at the door. Hank felt his heart fill with joy at the thought that Joe had kept the kitten.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming, I'm coming," he heard Joe call from across the door, before it swung open.

The look of annoyance was instantly replaced with surprise when he caught sight of who stood waiting for him. The kitten instantly advanced on Hank, trying to claw up his leg, a desperate look in his soft eyes and a whine still insistently floating from him. With a soft smile at Joe, Hank bent and scooped the kitten into his hands, resting him against his chest where the kitten instantly cuddled, and brushed his fingers gently over the soft downy head.

"Hello Joe," he replied softly, his eyes downcast in embarrassment.

_What am I doing here?_

Quietly Joe led him into the living room and went to make coffee. Hank sat on the couch, the kitten curled up on his lap, as he frenziedly tried to think of what to say. When Joe handed him a steaming cup of coffee he graciously accepted it, but found he still couldn't look the other in the eyes. Joe settled down on the sofa beside him and as they both drank a heavy silence fell between them. Hank took the time to look around the room, noting the empty beer cans that lay on the floor, the small pile of tuna cans by the door, and the overfilled cigarette tray and the smears of ashes on the coffee table.

"I hope I'm not bothering you," he finally blurted out, willing to do anything to break the tension.

"No-" before Joe could get anything else out Hank quickly interrupted, placing his mug down on the coffee table.

"I didn't mean to get you involved in anything and I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you."

Joe placed his mug down as well then and propped a leg on the sofa beside him, his arm swung over the backrest so he could turn and look at Hank better.

"You don't need to keep apologizing."

"Ah…um," Hank muttered, unsure of how to respond.

He gnawed on his bottom lip again, tasting the remnants of the cut from earlier. Releasing the hold his teeth had, he swept his tongue over the soft flesh. His hands fisted on his knees, his nails while short dug into his palms, and his fingers ached from the tension, his knuckles turning white with the strain.

"So they let you go huh?" Joe asked conversationally, retrieving his mug to take another gulp.

"Yes, my lawyer fixed it so that rather then spending time in a mental institution for the temporary insanity I have to go see a psychiatrist once a week and detective Genet will be acting like a parole officer. I have to check in with him once a day for the next year."

"That's good," Joe replied.

Hank slowly unclenched his fist and rubbed a hand over the soft fur, eliciting a purr from the small creature resting on his lap, before he replied, "I suppose."

"You know he's been sitting by that door just waiting for you to come back," Joe stated rather suddenly.

At the news Hank looked up surprised and caught Joe's eyes for the first time. A soft heat crept up into his cheeks and he cast his gaze away once more.

"I'm surprised you kept him. I guess I just assumed you would bring him to a shelter."

"I thought about it, but it was kind of nice to have him around. Besides, now you'll be here to take care of him so it's all good," Joe informed nonchalantly as he stood to put his cup in the sink.

"Huh?" Hank questioned, sure he had misheard.

He watched as Joe leaned against the counter with a grin, his arms folded across his chest. The relaxed posture elicited an aura of calmness and certainty, both characteristics that Hank found he now lacked and anxiously wanted back.

"You are staying aren't you?" Joe asked, although it sounded more of a statement than a question. "Someone's gotta take care of the little sucker, not to mention you cook better than I do and I can't seem to keep the house clean without you. Guess I'm just hopeless that way."

Hank smiled softly, knowing what Joe meant to say even though he didn't voice it, and was grateful for the extended generosity.

"Guess there's nothing for it then," he replied softly.


	16. Chapter 16

Jeff - Hakyryu/Jeep (the kitten)

**Chapter 16: Everything's All Right**

By the time five rolled around Hank found his head too heavy to support on his own and leaned against the backrest of the sofa. The kitten playfully batted at his hands, rolling on his lap and nipping with sharp teeth at his tickling fingers. The kitten had grown from a bushy rat into an adorable baby kitten. It was still small and played violently as it had yet to learn to retract its claws, but Hank didn't mind the stinging little scratches or teeth marks.

"So what are you going to call little whiskers here?" Joe asked, having changed from his clothes into his work uniform of black leather pants and a red dress shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.

"Huh?" Hank questioned through a yawn, warn out from the hectic day as well as from the relief of no longer having the worry he had been carrying for months.

"Well you're going to give him a name aren't you? How about Snowball?"

Hank chuckled sleepily and looked down at the little guy before replying, "I think we should name him Jeff."

Joe laughed but replied, "It's random but I like it. Jeff it is," and reached down to pet the kitten, engulfing him under his hand and shaking him from side to side. Looking up at Hank he continued, "You should get some sleep. Take the bed tonight ok."

Hank nodded, too tired to argue against the generosity.

"Alright, well I'm off," Joe called over his shoulder as we walked to the door. When he reached it, however, he turned back around and questioned, "Hey you going to see the detective tomorrow?"

"Yeah I said I'd meet him at ten," Hank replied, stretching out the kinks in his back and neck.

"Hum, wake me up and I'll come with you."

Joe didn't give him time to answer; with a smile he was gone, locking the door behind him.

* * *

Upon arriving home that night, Sam found Cody sleeping on the couch. It wasn't a rare occurrence. Every day that month Cody had been going out with Lee, leaving before Sam did and giving the elder enough time to spend at the prison with Hank. However, whenever he got home he'd find the boy waiting for him anxiously curled into himself. Now on top of finding the boy sleeping on the couch he also noted that the curtains were pulled tightly shut and every light on the bottom floor was on.

_It's getting worse._

Cody had only ever requested that his bedroom light be left on at night, which Sam had allowed with little thought. He had supposed with Cody going out every day that his paranoia was lessening but clearly his comfort zone had simply expanded to include the girl. They never stayed out past dark and now Cody himself had began to request that the blinds be kept shut. When in the house he would refuse to be alone unless sleeping, making things difficult at times but none the less worrisome.

Sam reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Cody's eyes. The boy flinched but slept on, so Sam reached to shake him awake. Cody woke with a start at the mere brush on his shoulder, pulling back in instant fear with a cry. Sam didn't let go till Cody finally relaxed then he pulled back and walked into the kitchen leaving the other to follow.

"We need to talk," Sam called over his shoulder as he began to make coffee.

"That doesn't sound good," Cody mumbled dejectedly but stood and hurriedly followed. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Sam replied simply, now use to feeding Cody's constant need for assurance. "It's about school."

Confusion spread clearly across Cody's features as he leaned against the counter, his head resting across his folded arms. Aside from brief mentions of his lack of schooling neither had spoken much about it. After so many years absence Cody found he had no desire to be locked back up in a building for the greater part of the day. Neither did he think Sam would force him back there. Having dropped out in the eighth grade he would be physically advanced by five years and mentally beyond that of his peers. He didn't think he could stand the embarrassment not to mention the curriculum, and the difficulty level had nothing to do with his fears. In fact it was just the opposite. He may have dropped out of the school institution but he hadn't given up entirely on his education.

"Um, yeah…what about it?" Cody mumbled, his cheeks already heating with the embarrassing knowledge that he should already have graduated a year ago.

"I hired you a tutor," Sam said with no preamble.

Cody's head shot up at the statement, his eyes opening larger than they already looked.

"A tutor?" he replied dumbly.

Sam turned with a steaming cup in hand. Cody tried to read his gaz,e but found nothing behind the unemotional stare. Sam didn't joke so Cody couldn't very well pretend that, that was what this was, but still he couldn't understand Sam's sudden motivation.

"You'll finish your studies from home every afternoon starting tomorrow." Catching the look of uncertainty on Cody's face he continued gently, "Don't worry, I'm not just dumping you on anyone. You'll like this guy."

Dejected, Cody nodded. "Ok…if you say I have to, I'll do it."

Long after Sam went to bed that night Cody lay awake in his room. He didn't like the thought of meeting someone new or having his stupidity rubbed in his face. What if the tutor was an asshole or if Cody simply didn't like him? Would Sam listen to him? Would he allow Cody to get another tutor in that case?

Cody shifted on the bed, attempting unsuccessfully to get comfortable even though he knew it was his thoughts that were disturbing. Not to mention that the room light was too bright and had been keeping him awake and disturbing his sleeping patterns. However, he had made the decision to sacrifice restful, pleasant sleep in place of avoiding another fear gripping panic attack. Since that day he'd been feeling slightly paranoid, feeling as though someone was constantly watching him, waiting to get him. He had tried to quench the feeling by leaving the lights on, breaking the hidden areas of shadow and leaving no place for someone to hide, let alone sneak up on him. He new his feelings were probably unfounded but he found it was no use trying to use logic against anxiety.

It took a long time, but finally he managed to fall into a troubled sleep. He half woke more times during the night then he could count, disturbing images still floating behind his eyelids, waiting for him to fall asleep once more. His torment was finally ended when Sam unceremoniously woke him at ten the next morning.

Head still in a fog, Cody did as he was told, taking a change of clothes into the bathroom and washing up before he went downstairs for breakfast. As per usual Sam sat at the table, newspaper before him and coffee in hand. Cody silently served himself a bowl of cereal before taking a seat across from him. He had enough apprehension to tie his stomach in knots but seeing Sam's cool continence, the feeling seemed to rub off on him. His life had felt unsteady for years, at some times more so than others, but never had he felt more comfortable then when around Sam.

Up to now the delicate balance of his life had felt that it could be knocked off kilter at any given moment. The changes had been materialistic so far; one wrong move and he could be kicked back to the streets no matter what Sam said, but it wasn't like that anymore. Sam had made the decision to get him a tutor, something that seemed permanent - which seemed long term in comparison to everything else. Maybe he was wrong or just being foolish but he felt at home now.

"When's he coming?" he asked Sam when the elder folded the newspaper back up.

"Soon," was all the reply he got.

They didn't have to wait long as in another minute the doorbell chimed merrily. Cody froze at the musical tingle, his eyes catching and locking to Sam's as the other lazily lifted his gaze from his mug. Sam jerked his chin toward the front of the house and following the silent order Cody headed out to answer the door, forced to fight down a bout of nausea. He froze at the door, hand pressed to the cool knob, and berated himself none too gently for his stupidity, but still his heartbeat pumped erratically and his hand shook as he pulled open the last bit of protection he had from the unknown.

His breath caught in a strangled laugh at the sight that greeted him on the other side. Before him stood Hank, clean-shaven and with more color then when he'd last seen him. Directly behind him stood Joe, his eyes rimmed with dark tired shadows, but a smirk on his lips and his hands fisted in his coat pockets.

"Fire, it's been a while," Cody greeted, stumbling back to let the two in.

On top of feeling happy at the surprise visit, Cody admitted to being confused. Uncharacteristically he leapt forward and hugged Hank the moment he was past the entrance. It was a relief to see him again, to feel the body solidly real and unharmed. Hank patted his shoulder with parental affection. If he was uncomfortable with the contact he didn't let on, and allowed Cody to grasp his shirtfront without protest.

"I'm so sorry about everything," Cody rushed out on a strangled whisper. "I didn't mean to cause you trouble I just," his hurried apology was cut short when Hank squeezed his shoulder in reassurance and chuckled softly.

"Cody you don't need to apologize for anything," he explained gently.

At this Joe clapped his back and retorted, playfully teasing, "He's just saying that because now he'll have plenty of time to torture you."

Cody's confused look traveled between the two men whose amusement seemed to fade at his lack of understanding.

"Didn't Sam tell you?" Hank asked gently.

Cody shook his head mutely and pivoted on the spot at the sound of Sam's voice behind them.

"Hank's your new tutor."

* * *

The weeks soon fell into sync. Everyday Hank would arrive at ten and he and Cody would work at the kitchen table while Sam would lock himself in his office, coming out only on occasion to refill his cup of coffee and check on Cody's progress. Cody liked the challenge of the work and the easy way in which Hank explained it. It was comforting knowing that even when he had a hard time grasping any concept he never seemed to put a strain on the others' patience. They would always stop by two o'clock and Hank had once jokingly explained that he needed to get home to feed the animal and Jeff, their newly named kitten, as well.

"You're doing excellent Cody," Hank praised that afternoon as they finished up their work, and Cody stacked the last of the pawnshop textbooks Hank had gotten for him.

"So the brat's not entirely hopeless huh," Sam jeered, and Cody found he could tell it was a joke even though the other had spoken with a deadpan tone and no hint of a smile or even a grin.

Hank chuckled and replied, "He's been picking things up quickly, especially when it's something he's interested in."

"Stop talking like I'm not here," Cody mumbled, although it truthfully didn't bother him.

"Get going already, go play with your little friend," Sam, still playfully, commanded, reaching out to mess Cody's hair and shove him towards the back door.

The teen didn't hesitate to make his escape, knowing Lee would be waiting for him.

Hank watched the playful banter with a grin, averting his eyes when Sam turned to him, by putting his glasses away in his pocket. The brotherly affection that passed between the two was significantly more sober than the ruckus of Joe and Cody together, but it was no less endearing. Sam offered up the coffee pot in silent question and when Hank refused he simply poured a cup for himself and leaned against the counter, looking out the back window.

"So how are things going?" Sam asked distractedly.

Hank pulled the saddlebag like bookcase, he now carried with him everyday back and forth from each home, across his chest. The new routine of life was comforting and he found he was no longer haunted by the dreams quite as often. It seemed as though he was back to being grounded in reality and was once again thankful that he was in fact not dead and that his life was able to continue, although the pain of loosing his love was no less severe. That was a constant; a deep emptiness in his heart that he knew would never be filled or forgotten no matter how much time passed.

"Good. Joe and I have been getting along well. I better get going; I promised him I'd cook him supper before he left for work. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, seeing him to the door.

After watching Hank take off he headed out back where Cody and Lee stood on his side of the fence talking over to her brother in the opposite yard. Although he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Karl's and Lee's mother was slowing rising to the top of the black market district he made it a point not to get involved in anything that didn't call for him too. It had been an unhappy coincidence that the two had ended up living beside each other, but even then, other then keeping the occasional tab Sam didn't allow it to distract much of his time. However, now he found himself a little paranoid for Cody's sake. Whatever the kid was protecting had gotten him picked up at some point and he couldn't guarantee that it hadn't been Karl or Lee's mother who had ordered it.

As Cody noticed him approaching he smiled and jogged across the small space to him, asking, "Sam can Lee and I go out for dinner?"

Sam didn't bother questioning why they wanted dinner at two in the afternoon, after they just finished lunch and when they would just be hungry in another few hours. It seemed the pair lived for food and with Cody still looking underfed he couldn't say no. With a suffering sigh he pulled out his wallet and handed over a couple of twenties, which Cody happily snatched from his hand and ran back to drag Lee through the back gate.

"Be back before dark," Sam called after them, almost wincing at the thought of how motherly the words sounded.

Across the yard Karl softly chuckled and, when cast a dark look, leaned over the wood planks and said, "Looks like I owe you one."

Sam turned back to the house giving no indication to having heard other then raising his hand in a motionless wave.


	17. Chapter 17

Homura/Soren's guys:

Sean – Shien

Zack - Zenon

**Chapter 17: I Feel Like I'm In For It Now**

The two teens had been idly wandering down the strip mall when in an instant rain clouds gathered over head. The baby blue sky quickly changed to a torrent of navy, grey and black, swept on by frigid gusts of wind. Cody shivered with the sudden cool shift, zipping up his new jacket and shoving his bawled fists into the pockets. He remembered Sam had put the weather channel on that morning and desperately tried to remember what the guy had predicted.

_Did he say a storm or just showers? In any case the chance was pretty low, only about thirty percent, or was that fifty…sixty maybe?_

Cody glanced up at the sky again. Whatever the television had said a storm was sure to hit. He wasn't proud of it, but living on the streets had taught him to spot the signs when a storm would blow over and when he would need to find shelter. However, he was distracted from all his unorganized thinking when Lee yanked down on his sleeve to grab his attention. He was grateful that she had thought to wear proper clothing, an oversized black sweatshirt with baggy black shorts that fell to her knees and continued with knee high socks, her curls trapped under a new-style painters' hat. Her outfits had been quite extravagant as of late and for the most part inappropriate, therefore Cody was relieved to not have to pass her his jacket just so she wouldn't catch her death of cold.

"Aren't those some wicked wheels?" she enthused, yanking his sleeve once again as she pointed out a black sports car stopped at a red light. "I would kill to ride something like that, but Karl is such a tight wad! He said he wouldn't buy me a sports car, like I don't know that both him and Dom are driving Mercedes!"

Another shiver sent the fine hairs on the back of Cody's neck on end and he knew it had nothing to do with the weather. Grabbing Lee's hand he quickly pulled her to the nearest storefront, which happened to, actually, be a restaurant. Thinking quickly so as not to worry her he mumbled an explanation about being hungry. Although when the waitress served them their order of chili fries, Cody found his earlier appetite was completely lost. He had hardly been able to breathe until the light had changed color and the car rolled out of sight.

"You're quiet today," Lee commented spearing a fry onto her fork and popping it into her mouth.

"I'm…just thinking," Cody replied distractedly, still looking out the window to see if he could spot the car.

Lee seemed to ignore his behavior after that, happily continuing her one sided conversation not even caring that she wasn't receiving responses, nor really needing them. By this time the rain had started to pour down as though a hurricane had hit, curtaining the window so that the street was no longer clearly visible. Cody fidgeted on the hard vinyl, the old anxious feelings swiftly returning. Had he been thinking logically he would have known that it would be better to wait out the worst of the storm before going home, but all he could think was that it was getting dark and he wanted Sam.

"Lee I want to go home," he pressed, stopping her inane babble mid conversation.

She looked up surprised, but seeing the tension in his body she quickly smiled reassuringly and replied, "Sure thing, let's just go pay."

The rain was coming down a lot worse than he'd expected, but they managed to avoid the worst of it by staying close under the awnings. He allowed Lee to have the right side, closest to the store fronts and sheltered from the spray of the overflowing gutters. It distantly occurred to him that Lee had began talking about the weather as though to calm him, but he couldn't care less that she thought he was frightened by the storm. He only wanted to be home as quickly as possible and the feeling intensified at the site of another, or possibly the same, black car as it drove by them. It slowly rolled by, almost as though in slow motioned when it passed them. Cody froze, feeling as though he was being marked, but the windows were tinted and he couldn't place whether it was Soren or simply his imagination.

He knew he had to do something. Images of Nathan, his body lifeless and bloody in his arms, flashed to mind and he knew he couldn't allow Lee to be put in that danger. If it was Soren he knew the man would not hesitate to hurt or kill anyone that stood in his way. Without thinking of the consequences the reached into his jacket and freed the chain he had carried around his neck for the past three years. He grabbed tightly to the small pendent and yanked it off, breaking the thin chain and scrapping his neck. He pressed the cool metal firmly into Lee's hands, ignoring her confused and worried looks.

Holding firmly onto her hand he explained, "Take this and give it to Sam for me. I have something I need to do."

Her eyes widened in surprise and quickly fussed with worry at the look that was clearly painted across his own face.

"Cody…" her voice shook with worry and desperation, but he had no time to comfort her, the car was pulling around the corner again.

"Please Lee, give it to Sam. Promise!"

"Yeah," she breathed clutching the chain to her chest now.

Quickly Cody dashed across the street, his feet slipping on the drenched ground as he turned down a side street and left Lee safely behind. It didn't escape his notice that the car quickly swerved to follow him and continued to do so as he tried to speed up and headed down another side street. His progress was completely halted when the car surpassed him and came to a screeching stop, the tires skidding against the pavement until the car twisted to the side and blocked any path across.

His heartbeat sped up and the tension in his body was slowly turning into quivering shakes at the knowledge of both what and who awaited him. The back door and both front doors slowly opened and Cody found himself taking a protective step back. He wanted to cast his gaze around, to find an escape, but could hardly manage to breath let alone move at the sight of a brilliant black loafer, which led up to a soft grey tailored pant leg. It was slowly followed by another, sweeping behind a black trench coat. The familiarity of the broad shoulders, angular features, and thick mess of black hair that was the only disordered look to the appearance, had Cody backing away another step, a small whimper escaping his lips.

"Did you think you could run forever Cody?" Soren questioned softly, the same sinister smile gracing his features as it so often did in Cody's nightmares.

He fought down another whimper and tried to back away again only to find that while he had been frozen at Soren's appearance his men, Sean and Zack, had come to surround him. Cody pivited on the spot to gage the distance between himself and Sean. The man was also in a suit and, although he seemed young, his fair hair was prematurely graying. The sign of old age now framed his temples. His features were never anything but unemotional and his movements were swift and sure. No move was lost on him or any word unnecessarily spoken.

When Cody had allowed himself a few brief moment in the middle of the night to think of his captors he had managed to admit to himself that it was the lack of feeling, the purely robotic movements of the man, that scared him the most. In complete contrast it was wild anger and violence in his partner that scared Cody the most about him. The man held nothing back and was quick to deliver punishment, which wouldn't stop until he deemed it enough, often a point which came sometime just before death. He was reckless and unpredictable, a cliché to his Irish ancestry, just as his flaming red hair was. He was broad and built, thicker than either Sean or Soren and proudly sported scars from previous battles, the biggest being a jagged scar that ran down his right eye.

Wordlessly both men advanced on him, capturing him between them so the slim possibility of escape was no longer even possible. Zack reached him first, a dangerous smile spreading ominously over his lips before his fist struck out. Reacting on instinct and adrenaline alone, Cody avoided the blow with his forearm and thrust his other hand up, aiming the base of his palm at Zack's nose. The attack had enough power to break the nose, to thrust it painfully and bloodily back into the skull if aimed right. His enemy was not so easily surprised, though, and backed away so that Cody's hand caught him almost harmlessly on the lip. No damage whatsoever would have been caused had he not been smiling, but as he was his teeth caught his lip in the thrust and cut it. Zack swore and roughly brushed his thumb across his bottom lip, smearing the thin trail of blood.

"You'll pay for that you little shit," he threatened darkly and advanced with that unleashed power of his.

Breathless in fear Cody backed up again and felt his back slam into Sean. He had forgot about the other man. He tried to scrabble forward but his feet slipped on the wet ground and Sean easily grabbed onto his wrist, painfully twisting it behind his back. With a low growl Zack clenched his fist and slammed it to the side of Cody's head. His vision blackened before slowly returning with colorful spots, a pain now throbbing through his head to match that of his shoulder blade and wrist.

"That's enough," Soren said as Zack lifted his hand for another strike.

He advanced on Cody slowly, coming so close that he actually made the teen try to press back into the arms of the enemy. Cody's right wrist was yanked higher while the other was simultaniously crushed down to his side. He couldn't help the instant whine that came from him, but he quickly stilled and silenced.

Soren pressed his lips to the shell of Cody's ear and whispered, "I told you before my patience was running thin. It has now just run out."

At his final words a piercing pain hit Cody in the thigh. When Soren pulled back Cody noticed the syringe in his hand and suddenly felt his muscles loosen. Within seconds he could no longer stand on his own and sickeningly found himself supported in Sean's arms. His senses began failing him just as quickly and the last thing he could remember hearing were Soren's orders for him to be placed in the back of the car.

_Sam…help me…_

* * *

As soon as the rain started Sam had had an ominous feeling. The paranoia that something would go wrong had haunted him to the point of dragging him into the streets in the middle of the storm to find the brat. After hours of driving up and down the streets with no sign of either Cody or Lee in any of the shops or diners and with still no answer from the home phone Sam's paranoia slowly began sinking into panic. He swerved onto his street, the tires slipping before the traction caught, and almost felt a wave of relief at spotting a dark figure sitting on the stoop.

_The idiot just forgot his key. It's nothing to worry about._

He had been thinking for a while that hiding a key somewhere would be a good idea and decided that he's do that first thing tomorrow so Cody wouldn't be left out again. Yet still the cold sweat on his back refused to give way nor did the tension that coursed through his body. Something still felt deeply wrong and over the years he had learned to trust his instincts. Exiting the car he took the steps to the front of the house at a jog and his stomach sank when he saw that it was Lee who stood waiting for him.

"D-detective," she choked, and senses in cop-gear Sam noted every detail of fear on the girl from her red swollen eyes to the shivering that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Where's Cody?" he demanded, capturing her shoulders between his hands.

"I don't know," she wailed, holding out her hand palm up to show him a chain dangling from between her fingers. "All he said was for me to give this to you and he-he…" her words broke off in a fit of tears that shook her body and made her legs quake to the point where Sam had to settle her back on the steps before she fell.

The chain had been broken, but it still held an ugly pendent half the size of a penny with some saint embossed on the front. The necklace meant nothing to him, but with frustration he placed it in his pocket. He didn't know what else to do and could only think of his earlier suspicions of Karl having been behind the first kidnapping. He scrubbed his hands over his face trying desperately to stay both logical and calm.

"Go home Lee. I'll get Joe and Hank and we'll find him. He couldn't have gotten too far." As he spoke another idea quickly came to him and he voiced it for the benefit of calming the hysterical girl. "In fact he probably went to go see them."

Without waiting to see that she made it back home Sam got into his car again and headed down to Joe's place. He had a few minutes before five so he knew if he hurried he could still catch both men at home.

* * *

Both Joe and Hank were startle from their meal by the fervent knocking on the door. With a wave to his friend Hank stood to answer the door, knowing Joe only had a few minutes before he needed to leave. It came as an even greater surprise, however, when he found Sam waiting, a look close to desperation and fear on his face.

"Detective," Hank gasped and quickly stepped aside to let him in, catching Joe's eye from across the room as he did so, watching the other cock an eyebrow in question and stand up to approach them.

"Is Cody here?" Sam demanded, turning directly on Hank the moment the door was closed.

"No," he replied confused, noting that at the words the strange tenseness that filled Sam was instantly passed to his roommate as well.

"What's going on? Where's Cody?" Joe demanded, doing nothing to shield his unease as Sam was trying to do.

Hank had to admit that both their reactions were beginning to worry him. It didn't ease any when he finally managed to get Sam to sit and explain what was happening. Joe filled in what he knew of the teen and suddenly stories of Cody being kidnapped and beaten nearly to death, all over a mysterious package, was quickly unraveled.

"Do you have any idea where he might be," Hank asked, although he knew that Cody never left Sam's side for long.

"If I had any idea do you think I'd be here," Sam growled as he paced the room.

Hank wrung his hands together; trying to remain rational, as it was clear the other two would not.

"Does he have any friends," he asked doubtfully, knowing that Cody only hung out with Lee and being Sam's neighbor that would have been the first place checked.

Sam instantly stopped his pacing and quickly headed for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Let's go."


	18. Chapter 18

**Be WARNED I torture Cody from this point on. **

**Chapter 18: Standing On The Edge**

The atmosphere in the apartment was solemn and heavy. Hank had dragged the stool from the bedroom and they now all sat around the kitchen table. The infernal rain continued to pound outside, an endless hurricane that shook the electricity lines and made the lights flicker. The steady drumming and sporadic thunder was all that broke the stillness until the kettles' high pitched whistle beckoned attention.

Hank stood and silently prepared the instant coffee, placing a mug before everyone before resuming his seat. Joe accepted the pro offered brew and took a healthy gulp while Sam ignored his mug entirely. He had his elbows on the table, his head propped on his fists, in the same position since they had returned a half hour before. Their previous trip, while quite informative, had only served to deject and worry them further.

FLASHBACK

Hank sat stiff with nervousness as Sam sped along the sloshed streets. On several quick turns the seat belt chaffed his neck and his fingers were growing numb from the constant hold he had on the sides of the seat, however, he didn't dare ask Sam to slow down. Logically he wanted to say that their dying wouldn't help Cody in the least, but the silent tension emanating from the driver and the mumbled fury from Joe in the back seat had him biting his tongue.

He worried for Cody as much as the other two, but knew that at least one of them needed to stay calm and rational. They had managed to get from Sam that the teen had left Lee on his own. While his departure worried them and his lack of coming home or contacting them led to imagining the worst, but there was still the possibility that he hadn't been kidnapped and was simply taking shelter from the weather. If he were honest with himself then he'd admit the likelihood of that being what happened was slim to none. However, he couldn't bring himself to admit it was nothing more than wishful bullshit. It seemed everyone was depending on him to stay calm.

Sam took another vicious turn and slammed on the breaks, skidding the car to a park in front of the boisterous nightclub. Without a backwards glance or comment the detective stepped from the car and stormed for the entrance before them. His strides were long and sure, his shoulders squared off and the winds twisting his hair and jacket wildly around him. Hank had the brief thought that whoever the detective intended to confront had better not be weak hearted as the storm of fury that quickly approached looked ready to draw blood. He was taken from his thoughts at the sound of a second door slamming and watched as Joe followed stride, leaving him to scurry to catch up.

The club was like any other in the district. The lighting was dim save for the neon glow of the orb lights and the place reeked of smoke, alcohol and the thick carbon scent of fog mist. The place, however, was large with three floors. The first consisted of a bar and a dance floor, a few scattered tables and booths holding half naked shimmying dancers and their groping audiences. From what Hank could see the second floor seemed much the same with the exception of a large platform stage where a gothic metal band now played. The third floor was closed off and all he could see was a wall of tinted glass windows that overlooked the whole affair. Skidding along the throng of people they headed past the stairs to a discreet set of cage elevators, which took them to that third floor.

The room opened up like a reception hall, the floor a rich tile instead of the cement and metal of bellow. One wall was taken up entirely by the window; a cherry wood desk blocked the other end, behind which was a set of double doors. Sam didn't hesitate to stomp across the way and push forcefully into the room. A tall man jumped instantly to attention, his hand resting against a revolver strapped to his belt. He didn't pull the weapon although it was clear he would if provoked.

"Karl," Sam called in a frightening mix between a growl and yell.

Hank's eyes came to rest for the first time on the room behind the bodyguard. The place was spacious and uncluttered despite the sofa that was placed in the center of the room, the coffee table before it, the small personal bar and large desk in the corner. The man who he distantly recognized as Sam's neighbour, Karl, was seated at the sofa, one ankle crossed over the other knee and one arm slung over the back of the sofa while the other had a small woman caught around the waist. She was a beautiful thing, voluptuously endowed with a slim waist and long legs all neatly packaged in a white dress that resembled the signature one of Marilyn Monroe.

"Why detective," Karl began pleasantly as though three men hadn't just broken into his office, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The words were scarcely out before Sam was already demanding, "Where the hell is Cody?"

A brow cocked at the question and Karl quickly released the girl, planting both feet on the ground and leaning forward. His full attention was grabbed although nothing seemed suspicious; there was no hint of recognition to the words, only a faint worry that was probably for his sister.

"What are you talking about," he demanded back in a voice so harsh his bodyguard placed his hand over his gun again, worried about a possible physical retort.

"Your sister came over saying he went missing, now where is he? I know he was taken a few months ago and I won't have that happening again while he's under my care!"

Karl leaned back once again, his posture hardly relaxed, although no longer caring. A teasing smirk played briefly across his lips before he waved his hand in dismissal and explained, "Look I want what he has, but I didn't kidnap him."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" Joe demanded now, advancing a step, although not meeting Sam in his distance.

Even as the question slipped through Joe's lips Sam remembered Cody's many confessions of having something people wanted. How could he have forgotten so completely about that in all his worry?

"His friend, Nathan Prince, seemed to have followed in his father's footsteps and had his hand in thievery and black market trades. From what I hear he took a pricy piece right out from under the God of War's nose.

"Soren?" Sam asked astounded by what he heard.

The gangster had earned the knick name as he dealt primarily with weapons trade, although his crimes diversified in many other markets. The man came from old money and had the protection of the state through bribes with cops straight up to the highest judicial courts. He was virtually untouchable and Sam had never even dared to try even though he had been asked to on several occasions. The gangster had technically been out of his self imposed jurisdiction and anyone that got tangled in that dangerous web was found dead, if their bodies were found at all. The man had the power to make anyone he wished disappear. Sam's stomach burn with acid bile at the thought of him having Cody in his poisonous clutches where he may never be retrieved again.

With a sly grin Karl continued, "Rumour has it that he passed on this incredibly valuable item to our little friend. Makes for a good target," Karl concluded although there was no longer any amusement to his tone or features.

As Joe turned to leave, following the dejected men before him, he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and forced him to turn. He bawled his fists angrily and quickly pulled away, catching sight of the bodyguard. The man was at least a head taller and looked a good decade older, although the years hadn't been unkind. He had been about to retort when a ghostly nudge of recognition stopped him. There was something strangely familiar about the raven hair that would have matched his own had it not been dyed, as well as the broad width in the chest and shoulders.

As realization hit him dead on Joe watched a smile play across the man's lips before he said, "I thought it was you. Damn Joe look at you, all grown up."

He had indulged himself for months, thinking up snappy retorts or crude insults for this very moment, but now that he had the opportunity he found that his bitterness died before ever reaching his lips.

"What do you want," he demanded simply, hooking his fingers through the front loops on his jeans.

The other man looked taken aback for a brief instant before his shock was replaced with anger and annoyance.

"The hell… You're the same little bastard aren't you? Is that how you greet family?"

"I have no family," Joe replied without even thinking about the words. "You let her kick me out of the house at sixteen with no money and no place to go."

"Joe you can't think that I…look when I found out," Dom tried to explain, but Joe stopped paying attention when Hank called out to him, looking frenziedly between him and Sam who was ready to leave without them.

"I don't need anyone anymore Dom," Joe stated with all seriousness and walked away without a second look back.

END FLASHBACK

"Did he say anything to Lee," Hank asked for at least the tenth time.

He had only known Cody for a short time, but as with the two men with him now, he had felt an instant connection to him, not to mention that it was unlike the teen to run off on his own. He was practically afraid of his own shadow and hardly left Sam's side unless it was necessary. There was simply something about the whole situation that wasn't making any sense.

Sam simply sighed and reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He couldn't quench the guilt that crept through him. Cody was gone…in trouble…possibly dead. The beating of the rain barraged down on his soul and the twisted images of his parents, his father, everything that had ever gone wrong in his life came flooding in. The constant in all was the blasted rain that seemed to sound like a toll bell warning of death through his life. He couldn't have the teen's fate on his conscience as well.

Desperately yanking for his cigarettes now he felt cool mental slide along his fingers before it slipped through and fell to the floor with a small ping. There, staring up at him was the ugly necklace Lee had given him that afternoon. Calming his wild thoughts he tried to revert to his detective training, as he should have been doing all along.

Snatching up the scrap of metal he quickly explained, "Lee mentioned something about him telling her to give this to me."

Joe took the necklace he offered, but shook his head, "I guess I've seen it with him a few times, but…"

"That's a religious pendant," Hank explained leaning over Joe's shoulder to get a look. He took the necklace from his roommate and studied it for a moment before replying with a hint of surprise, "This is from Union Hope church," shaking his head he looked up at the other two and explained, "they used to sell these to raise funds for the church, but it closed down years ago. It's at least a six hour drive from here."

"You think he left it as a way for letting us know where he'd be?" Joe asked, looking between Hank and Sam for answers.

"He took off on his own as far as we know and this is the only clue we have. As far as I'm concerned this is our best bet. Let's go, we're leaving tonight," Sam informed, tucking the pendant back into his pocket.

"Sam be reasonable," Hank protested, "the rain is coming down too hard, it's dangerous to be driving now, especially in your car."

"We don't have time!" Sam bellowed, slamming his fists against the table and making the others jump. Taking a breath, he forced himself to calm as he continued, "The first twenty-four hours in any missing person's case are the most crucial and in Cody's case, with a man like Soren involved, he probably has even less time. The longer we wait the easier it will be to lose track of him, now since this is our only clue I'm going there."

Hank knew this was all reasonable, but looking out the window he also knew that taking on a trip like that, this late into the night and with a rage of nerves and anxiousness, would not only have them throwing themselves into a possibly dangerous fight, but they would be putting themselves at risk of death with Sam driving in his death-trap of a car.

Sighing in admission of defeat, Hank shifted on his seat and admitted, "I have a jeep. It should still be at the old loft. We should take that instead."

Sam nodded and questioned, "You know how to get to this place?" At the nodded agreement he continued, "You'll drive."

"I understand."

Hank stood to follow them out the door and almost tripped when Jeff rubbed himself against his legs and meowed pitifully. Hank didn't like the idea of leaving Jeff alone for so long, but he didn't have much time to find someone to watch him. With another defeated sigh, he reached down to pick up the kitten and tucked him into his jacket as he left the apartment, locking the door behind him.

* * *

Slowly the darkness ebbed, the numbness swiftly replaced by a chocking pressure on Cody's throat and a throbbing pain in his head, shoulder and wrist. He was barely back to awareness when the rough twine-like rope around his neck was yanked, turning his moan into a chocked gurgle. His eyes flashed open and, although still fogged and misty, he could make out the shapes of both Sean and Soren. The rope was yanked again only the pressure didn't release this time. Cody struggled to move his unresponsive muscles to keep his body from becoming deadweight as he was dragged along the ground.

The seconds seemed infinite before he was pushed against a metal fence in a room that looked like a storage basement and was once again able to breath. He pulled his legs to his chest protectively and grabbed the rope, chocking and gasping as he tried to pry off the material that burned and bruised. It didn't take long for Zack to reach down and grab hold of one of his wrists, pulling it against the fence as high as it would go. Before Cody could even try and fight him a cuff of barbwire, which the other jerked down from where a portion had loosened along the top, quickly restrained him. The metal thorns pierced straight through his skin and Cody instantly cried out with the pain, trying to pull it off with his free hand. The restraint dug deeper as he struggled; it scrapped and stabbed his palm but still he couldn't untie the twists.

Pressing his bleeding palm to the cool metal of the storage fence he finally relented, trying to keep as still as possible and yet unable to stop the shuddering cries. He cringed further into himself at the sound of footsteps approaching. He couldn't look directly at his captors, but caught a glimpse of all three through his peripheral vision. Zack stood directly behind Soren, tapping a metal baseball bat against the flat of his palm. The action made Cody shudder and whimper once more.

"Now Cody, the fun is over," Soren informed, grabbing hold of his rope collar. "You're going to tell me what I want to know or die slowly in the process."


	19. Chapter 19

Zoe – Shoe (from the episode where they go back to the orphanage where Hakkai grew up)

**Chapter 19: She Prays To The Lord I'll Be Fine**

Cody struggled to his knees, clawing at the cord around his neck with his free hand. The barbwire around the other dug in deeper causing him to breathlessly cry out. While the thorns were more painful then he could have imagined he knew that without them – if the wire didn't cut straight through his hand – he would have bled to death. As it was, the blood only sluggishly leaked past the wire to drip down his arm before soaking into his sleeve. His right palm burned as the punctures pressed against the coarse rope, numbing his fingers while causing the blood to gush out quicker.

"I want that package," Soren demanded, yanking the rope higher still.

Death. Did he honestly fear it anymore or did he simply fear the pain that preceded it? It seemed a lifetime ago now that he had faced Sam in the cruddy apartment and declared without fear that he would die to protect his secret. He felt very little of that strength now as he faced his true enemy. He supposed, deep down that was why he gave Lee the pendant. In the chaos building around him he had managed to create choice for himself. He could die without saying a word and go to the grave knowing Soren would never get what he wanted, or he could hope that Sam would figure out the clue he had given him and get to the package first or possibly even…save him.

The rope was released and swiftly Soren backhanded Cody across the face. His head jerked with the blow and he could feel the already tender flesh along his cheekbone bruise. He turned back and watched as Soren backed up, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping off the blood that had tracked onto his ring. He gave a careless nod to his henchmen and instantly Zack took his place before Cody. He continued tapping the bat threateningly and licked his lips in eagerness.

Cody's eyes firmly fixed to the glinting weapon and he crouched deeper against the fence, trying to make himself as small as possible. It was useless, however. Like a butterfly pinned for display he was trapped. No matter which way he twisted, no matter how hard he struggled there was simply nowhere for him to go. He was pinned down and trapped. All he could do was shift his body to protect his pinned arm from becoming a target, but in doing so he opened himself up to Zack.

The first swing seemed to hold untamed force behind it and slammed solidly across Cody's chest. The fence rattled as he was thrust back against it and collapsed, devoid of breath and coughing up blood. He knew his ribs were cracked, if not broken, and that he would need to protect them or risk having a lung, or even his heart, punctured by a stray bone. The pain had barely registered when a second blow crushed down on his collarbone and then shoulder. Cody tried desperately to defend himself from the blows, sacrificing his right arm to absorb the brutish assault that continued to rain down on him.

_God…please Sam…save me…_

* * *

Sam shot awake with a start, a cold sheen of sweat forming along his back and upper lip. His muscles were so tight he was developing a cramp between his shoulder blades. All he could remember of the short dream was Cody's wide golden eyes pleading with him…calling to him. The haunting cry that filled his unconscious still echoed in his ears, sending a new wave of shivers down his spine.

"Bad dream?" Hank sympathetically whispered beside him.

Sam ignored the question and reached into his trench coat pocket for his Marlboros. He lit up not bothering to ask if his companion minded the smoke let alone the fact that he was smoking in his car. If Hank had any objections he didn't voice them for which Sam was grateful. His gaze flickered to the window where the rain was coming down hard as ever and showing no signs of an end. Next he sought out the neon numbers on the dashboard. It was already two in the morning so they shouldn't have had much longer to go, but then again with the pace Hank had set he wasn't so sure.

"Where are we?" he mumbled, pressing his palms to his eyes.

"We still have a few hours to go," Hank replied, stifling a yawn. "It's this traffic though," he continued, waving nonchalantly out the front window at the back up of cars. "In over an hour we've barely moved. The bridge must have flooded."

Sam watched as Hank slumped over the wheel, his head resting across his folded arms. The action caused a swift pang of guilt. Both he and Joe had been able to rest - the latter was still sprawled across the back seat, dead to the world, with the kitten cuddled on his chest. However, he had been pushing Hank this whole time and, although Sam knew he disapproved, he had not once voiced a single complaint. A half hour later, with the lights of a road block fazing in the mist, Sam knew the time had finally come to concede to the knowledge that they would not be reaching the church that night.

"Is there a town near by?" he questioned. At a tired nod in reply he continued, "We'll find a place to rest for a few hours then."

Hank couldn't suppress the tired grin that twitched at his lips and was grateful for the cover of darkness in the car. Not that he needed to worry about Sam seeing as the other had turned back to the window, resting his head against the cool glass. Hank didn't think sleep would come easily for his companion, but was thankful that he had agreed to let them stop for the night. Hank had managed twice now to pull into a rest stop and although closing his eyes for ten minutes was not exactly the rejuvenating sleep he could use it kept him from fear of driving them off the road.

It took another few minutes before they reached a side road and could pull from the traffic to back track into the small town beyond. Hank knew that they would not be finding a hotel at this hour. With the only bridge leading past being flooded he didn't even need to check to know that others like themselves had taken shelter from the storm in the only available five-room cabin motel. He wasn't too concerned over the fact, however. Although, when he had received his academic scholarship in the city he swore to himself never to return to the seclusion on the small town that had fronted as his home and to never rely on another, he had come to realize now that, that was simply impossible. Surprisingly enough it didn't bother him quite so much anymore either. He had formed a bond, willing or not, with these three others and it was strangely pleasant knowing that they relied on him as well.

Hank slowed the jeep as he spotted the old orphanage in the distance. A heavy pressure filled his chest as they slowly approached the imposing high fences and the hauntingly beautiful statue of the sacred mother. Caught in the beam of headlights the chiseled features looked more sorrowful then usual. The veiled face was cast in shadow and the rain gave the illusion of tears slipping past her cheeks to the folded palms lifted in prayer. The eerie sight sent a cold shiver down Hank's spine, forcing him to turn his focus to the desolate courtyard.

He pulled the jeep to a stop along the church side entrance before explaining, "We need to go out and ring the bell."

The other two followed and they all stood huddled together beneath the small awning by the entrance, which in this weather provided little shelter. Just as Joe began to grumble about the wait a soft glow lit the entrance beyond and a shadow cast figure emerged. The sister walked along the ceilinged path that surrounded the garden to them, dressed in the customary veil, white blouse and navy jumper, with an unbecoming brown shawl draped over her shoulders.

Before they could ask entrance the young sister was already unlocking the gate and greeting, "Please come in out of the rain. Come, come…"

Welcoming she ushered them along the cement walk and into the chapel. The stone was as cold as ever, in Hank's opinion, although he revelled in the dryness, feeling chills begin from the short time spent outside. He slowly spun, taking in the familiar surroundings from his youth. Unlike the philosophy of most churches, majestic this sanctuary was not. The stain glass on the windows was simple and held no designs and the border of the room was made from the depictions of the bible roughly carved into wood panels. The pews were of use-softened wood, the alter nothing more than a table on which sat the same iron cross from decades past. Along the wall to his left were the stands of penny candles and a basin of holly water. He couldn't help but smile at the fact that in his four years absence nothing had changed.

He was thrown from his musings when he turned back to the small group and heard the sister gasp, "Hank? Hank Chogan?"

He studied her closer in the dim light provided by the lantern before gasping out himself, "Zoe?"

Before he could do more than register her smile she had grabbed him in a hug, enthusing, "Oh! Of all the kids who come back and visit and I never thought to see you again. This is such a nice surprise."

He vaguely recollected a scrawny girl with mousy brown hair who had hated performing safety patrol duty with him. However, the image swiftly vanished to be replaced by the physical. He was acutely aware of the soft body pressed against his own. The warm embrace felt safe…comforting. The last woman to be in his arms was Hannah and the longer he clung on the more it felt like holding her again. The delicate frame, the soft curves of her chest cushioned against his hard planes, could all have passed for hers. However, when his cheek brushed the crown of her head he felt coarse material in place of her silky hair and he was suddenly thrust back to his senses.

Pulling back with a faltering smile he explained, "It's nice to…to see you too, but this wasn't exactly our plan. Our friend was…" He had to stop from saying 'kidnapped' and risk rousing suspicion or fear. "He's gone missing and we think he might be at the old Union Hope church."

"Oh my goodness," Zoe breathed, her hands coming to rest on her chest in a sign of both shock and concern. "You'll never get across in this storm, please stay here for the night."

"I admit, that's what we were hoping," Hank replied, some of his earlier tension leaving.

"Yes of course. If you don't mind sharing a room I can put you up in the boys dormitory."

"That'll be fine," Sam replied curtly, coming forward for the first time since arriving. "We only plan on staying a few hours, till the roads clear up."

"I understand you must be anxious," Zoe sympathized. "I'll pray for the safety of your friend."

* * *

The room, although small, fit four singles, each with a trunk placed at the foot of the bed for clothes. Everything looked beaten with age and yet cleaned with care. Hank sighed at the impoverished state that too was so familiar and sunk down onto one of the beds, fingering the faded blanket that still felt so soft and smelled of sunshine freshness. Sam chose the bed beneath the window, pushing the pane open a crack and lighting a cigarette.

"So this is where you're from huh?" Joe yawned, collapsing back on the bed across from him.

Hank shrugged, saved from answering by the gentle knock on the door.

Zoe came in, balancing a tray of mugs and offered, "I thought some tea might help. Once you're warmed up it'll be easier to sleep."

Hank didn't think any of them would be getting much sleep now that they had stopped, but smiled gratefully just the same. He placed the tray on the nearest trunk and stepped out of the room with Zoe, aware that Joe followed his every move with a lude grin.

"Hank go rest," Zoe insisted, holding both his hands comfortingly as they stood together in the deserted hall. "We'll talk tomorrow, right now you just leave everything to God."

He had never had much faith in God and Hannah's death had rattled what little he had been willing to believe. Could he trust Cody in the hands of some fictitious being he was meant to fear in order to serve? Whose stories of glory came at the cost of suffering and turmoil to the world? Could he dare to trust in someone who killed innocents such as his love and – dare he say it – Cody and allowed others like Soren to live?

Pulling back from Zoe he fisted his hands and grated his teeth together until his jaw hurt in order to stop himself from voicing what was on his mind. His determination was set. He would not allow another's fate to rest in someone else's hands. Cody was strong; he would be fine till they got to him. If God did exist then He had no part to play in their lives.

"Hank?"

"Thank you," he clipped out then softening his tone he added with a smile, "for everything. You were always very caring of others."

For a moment it looked as if she meant to say something, perhaps convince him of the Lords compassion or the power of prayer, but she closed her mouth again before saying anything. For a brief moment they faced each other and the troubled frown between her brows increased, but she nodded and turn to retreat back down the hall.

* * *

Sean's boot heal kicked him solidly in the cheek and Cody was now sure that the bone had broken. A pain swelled along his jaw only to intensify when he found himself coughing out the blood that quickly filled his mouth. Feeling a slight weight on his tongue he spit again and found that among the blood and saliva sat one of his molar teeth. He scrapped his stiff fingers along the ground and fisted them, feeling the tension grip along the shattered bone in his forearm. He attempted once more to lift his slumped form, desperate to take some pressure off his bound wrist, but found is efforts stopped by another swift kick to his chest which had him slumping back down as he attempted to scream.

Even had the wind not been knocked out of him he could no longer voice the instinctive sounds of agony. Long ago he had been reduced to moans that spurred from the back of his throat and gurgles of forced cries diluted with the chocking of blood. His pathetic begging had gained him no mercy and he quickly clamped his tongue from uttering any more as they earned nothing more than a harder beating. Now even attempting to call for help or simply holler with the pain had become agonizing in itself, but he could no longer suppress the steady stream of whimpers and no longer had the energy to even try.

Through his swollen eyes and the influence of pain Cody could barely see, but even though he couldn't tell which one of the men it was he knew that one of them had raised the bat again. In a frail attempt to protect himself he raised his arm once more and felt it quiver. The limb felt as though it had been infused with lead and he could barely even lift it to shoulder length before it fell back down, refusing to obey, as though it had a mind of its own and wished for its own safety.

_Sam…save me…_

"That's enough," Soren commanded before the blow could hit down on him.

With slow deliberate steps he advanced on the prone body. With vicious movements and a sadistic glint in his eye he grabbed the frail arm, digging his fingertips into the mass of blood and shattered bone barely contained in the thin layer of flesh. Instantly Cody threw his head back with a piercing scream, a fresh batch of tears flowing unhindered.

Soren's lips pressed to the shell of Cody's ear as he spoke, his fingers pinching deeper, "This arm must be hurting you. That can all be fixed you know."

His touch loosened, turning almost gentle as he ran his fingers along the skin, but his words grew even more callous as he continued, "We can just cut it off. Imagine one of my knives, the cold blade slowly slicing inch by inch through skin and then muscle. The bone will be difficult. Hours of hacking and sawing…but then again maybe we should just snap it off. One quick chop!"

At the final words he took hold of the arm again squeezing mercilessly. Cody choked out another cry even as he shuddered at the words, tasting the putrid acidic bile rise up with the blood in his mouth. The moist lips wouldn't leave his ear shell, however, and he knew that if he weren't tormented by the words he would be by the spoken actions that he knew Soren wouldn't hesitate to use. He tried to open his mouth in speech, working his pained jaw desperately to form the words.

"U…u…nion chur…church," he slurred out desperately, slamming his eyes shut in shame. "U…nion hope…"

With a snap of his fingers Soren pulled back and commanded to his men, "Sean get the car ready and find out where that is. Zack untie him, if the little bastard's lying we'll kill him on the spot."

_Sam save me…_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: How To Save A Life**

Restlessly the hours went by, each one more pressing than the last. Joe paced the halls anxiously, watching as the midnight hours faded to the soft grey glow of morning and as the silent stillness of the orphanage swiftly changed with the rising of sixty some rambunctious kids. Watching them run through the foggy haze of early morning and splashing through the puddles in the drizzling rain was strangely nostalgic. He supposed it was from having seen his brother again after such a long time that brought up the long buried memories.

The bastard really hadn't changed. He had the same imposing presence, the no nonsense severity and seriousness that always seemed diluted with the passive brotherly concern he had always shown him. In so many ways it was as though his brother had been the one to raise him and in turn he had looked up to Dom, worshiped him even.

FLASHBACK

Dom pushed him to sit on the edge of the bath then took his place kneeling before him. He went about with expert care disinfecting the raw scrape on Joe's knee and although the iodine burned fiercely Joe didn't complain or whine. Even if he had, he knew Dom would tell him to quite acting like a kid and suck it up. Experimentally he tried flexing his hands. The palms felt as though they had been burned raw from both falling and being dragged along the living room carpet, on top of which a dull ache was beginning in his bruised forearm where, unable to dodge a swinging pan quick enough, he had been forced to defend himself from the blow aimed at his head.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Dom reproached, his hard voice in complete contrast to his gentle movements as he slapped a band-aid on the cut. "When she gets like that you run!"

"But…" Joe muttered, feeling a sting behind his eyes that was more painful than any cut. "But you weren't around and…it makes her more mad."

For an instant Dom's eyes caught his and they softened with pity before he diverted his gaze to tend to Joe's palms. His voice was tender when he replied, "I know kid. Mom's just…she's sick right now, so just do your best to listen to her and stay away from her when you can."

Without warning the bathroom door slammed open and the threshold suddenly darkened with the imposing broadness of their father. His face, as always, seemed to be set in stone revealing no hints as to the thoughts behind his features, but his dark eyes were cunning, alert, and unforgiving. Joe shrunk from the piercing gaze cast his way, hunching behind the only protection that was ever present for him. In turn Dom squared his shoulders against their father, almost daring him to touch Joe in his presence. Barring the younger boy from danger they both waited in the pregnant silence.

At last the dark voice demanded, softly with an undercurrent of ferocity, "You better move your ass brat and clean up that mess in the kitchen before I belt you one."

Joe forced back a whimper, flinching further behind his saviour, but was saved from action when Dom placed a hand over his shoulder and told their dad, "When we're done."

With a huff he left, unable or unwilling to fight with his precious older son. Dom turned back to him and continued tending to his hands. The only sign he showed of the confrontation was the visible tension in his shoulders and for both that and his simple words Joe was eternally grateful, knowing both were proof of someone – the only one – caring for him.

END FLASHBACK

* * *

Unable to sleep Hank decided to seek the solitude of the sanctuary as he had so often done in the past. Making his way to the stand of penny candles he dropped coins into the wooden collection box, feeling a twinge as they echoed hollow, but he quickly pushed away any thoughts of the matter and struck up one of the matches. He watched as the flame flickered to life before making his way to the middle pew.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there in silent contemplation, aware only on a subconscious level that with dusk the room was slowly filled with sepia light on which the dust particles caught. Beyond the way he heard the waking of kids and was thrown back to a time when he would wake before all the others and hide in the church with a book till breakfast.

As a child he had been bitter both from the death of his parents and the hypocrisy of the religion he had been forced into. The other children, intimidated by his dry sarcasm and apparent hatred towards life, had left him in peace, not venturing conversation unless forced into it. Hannah had been the first to break through his barriers, patiently teaching him to open up to the possibilities of the world around him. He had lived for her for so long that he couldn't help feeling lost now without her.

His thoughts scattered at the sound of the door creaking open behind him and with a set of gently echoing footsteps came a chilling breeze. Turning to see whom had come he spotted Zoe, but before he more than registered her friendly smile he turned back again and stared unseeing to the front alter. Silently she slipped into the pew beside him and although they didn't touch he could still feel the heat emanating from her body and feel the ghostly fingers of her aura where their thighs and shoulders came a breath away from grazing each other's.

"My friends?" he questioned after an extended silence fell between them.

"Both still in the room last I checked. I knew I'd find you here though."

"We should be leaving soon," he told her, although, he made no move to rise.

"Hank," Zoe began, her voice heavy with sorrow as she grasped one of his hands between her soft palms. "I know you've had trouble with God in the past…I don't think I'll ever hear of another nine year old reading Nietzsche with as much gusto as you showed, but…you must have faith that your friend will be all right."

"How can I believe so blindly with no proof?" he questioned simply, his voice distant as he pulled his hand back from her comforting warmth.

"Faith…is something that you feel," she tried to explain pulling her hands back to draw her shawl closer around her shoulders.

He had lived around the religion long enough to have the stories memorized, to know the ins and outs of each miracle, but he had never been fully swayed. Any proof people tried to give came from a book written thousand of years ago and long after the fact. He knew memory was not a reliable source nor was history necessarily, not to mention that any proof the bible gave of the true existence of God or the Holly Son was all based on belief. He was tired of trying to sort out his thoughts on the matter and had wanted to specifically avoid this conversation.

"That's something Hannah would say," he smiled bitter-sweetly.

"Hannah?" she questioned softly.

"You remind me of her. She was so good natured and caring…" Seeing the silent question in her eyes he stared down at his palms as he explained, "She was raped…and murdered in front of me…and I was helpless to stop it. That's why I need to live for myself now. I don't have time for God and I'll never forgive him."

Suddenly feeling as though the room was too constricted, the air too stale and choking, he stood and headed for the door. He supposed Zoe had thought him out if hearing range but in the deserted room even the softest of sounds echoed and so he heard when she whispered, "No I don't suppose you would."

* * *

Sam stubbed out the butt of the cigarette on the window ledge before tossing it out the window where he assumed, four stories bellow, a pile had been gathering. He had watched for hours as the rain soothed into a steady stream, calming from its torrent rage of earlier and as the sun's grey muted light slowly began to rise on the horizon. The turmoil each was feeling had simply increased with the pacing time, however. In the mist of his own internal struggle he had managed to note that Hank had left the room long before and, although they had stopped partly so he could rest, he had yet to sleep. Joe, on the other hand, had lay down, but tossed more than slept until the young nun had brought in coffee. Sam wasn't sure when Joe had left, but when he finally reached for his own cold mug he had found the room empty.

Throughout the night all he could think of was Cody and he worried beyond reason that they would be too late. He fingered the small pendent, their only link to him, and wondered what they would do if they didn't find him there. Worse yet, he wondered what they would do if they did find him…but were too late to help. He realized his stupidity in blindly rushing forth; perhaps he should have at least called in Bosa, but was still too impatient to give his recklessness much thought. The fear and pleading in the golden eyes that had haunted him throughout the night was almost more than he could bare and combined with the image of scars, bruises and burns…

Slamming the window shut again with determination and finality he scooped up the beast that had insisted on curling up beside him over the night. He hadn't wanted to ask earlier why they had brought a cat with them and didn't feel like listening to the stupidity of it now. Finding his way down the stairs, only his memory of the night before as a guide, he made his way to the courtyard in the back. Instantly, through the mass of children that were surprisingly already dressed and waiting to be fed, he spotted Joe. He didn't have to worry about looking for Hank, as when approaching the former he caught sight of him leaving the church. Both looked at Sam expectantly, as though he was the leader of their misfit group and they were ready to follow his orders.

Forcing the cat into Hank's un-expecting grasp he commanded, "Let's go, we're leaving."

He turned away from Hank's sympathetic smile as he in turn faced the nun beside him and said, "Thank you, Zoe, for everything. Take care."

* * *

The roads, while still rain slicked, had been cleared and due to the earliness were empty. Hank tried to keep a quick pace as directed by Joe who impatiently persisted he speed up. While having him leaning over his shoulder and his insistent yammering provided an annoyance to Sam, he too wished Joe were driving so they could speed up. It became glaringly apparent, however, that speed would simply be impossible once they turned onto unused dirt roads, obscured by over grown foliage that kept the dim light out as well as blocked the path.

Crawling. Tediously crawling. So close and at the same time…

"Stop!" Sam called out suddenly.

Adrenaline coursing through his veins at the suddenness of the command, Hank slammed on the breaks. The tires slid on the slicked mud causing him to turn desperately into the skid in hopes of regaining traction. The seat belt pinched as they came to an ungraceful stop with Joe shouting his rage at having been tossed across the back seat.

"The hell Sam!"

"Next time please give me some warning," Hank requested bitterly, putting the car into park. He rubbed at the burning chafe on his neck as he uncomfortably adjusting the pull on his seatbelt.

Ignoring the two of them Sam pointed out the windshield at what had shocked him in the first place. He watched as their expressions went from ignorant confusion to sudden understanding.

"Track marks?" Joe questioned, once more leaning over the divide between the seats.

"With this rain that must mean they were made recently," Hank finished out the thought. "The only thing around for miles is the church right up the road."

"Pull over behind those trees, we're walking from here," Sam informed, fingering the semi automatic that had been weighing down his pocket since this insane adventure had begun.

He kept the gun as a protection and in his line of work it had proven itself to be useful on more than one occasion, but he had never had to truly use it on another person before. Maybe a minor injury to slow them down, but never with the intension of kill or be killed. He didn't know if the prayers of a hypocrite and atheist would be of any use, but just the same he offered up the hope that now would not be the time to off his fist victim.

* * *

The roads were dark as far as Cody could tell, and the rain continued to storm down – or was that simply the blood rushing through his ears. He tried flexing his fingers, which had gone numb from the binding of the rope that ran from wrist to elbow and crossed his arms behind his back. The binding also put pressure on his beaten shoulder which had been screaming in pain even before they bound him. Zack's foot swiftly kicked his shin causing him to groan in pain. He had tried fighting being thrust into the car once more only to have the door repeatedly slammed against his leg then simply held there, crushing until he was sure the bone had broken. Now in a fog of pain and delirium he simply tried not to move in the slightest.

A shift in the pressure on the tires told him that they had finally reached the dirt road pass to the church. The ride turned sluggishly slow and stalled for a few seconds at times. The uneven roads caused him to jolt violently and he found he was silently thankful that Zack grabbed his back collar to roughly keep him in place, if only so he wouldn't fall against him and spread his blood through the car. He didn't even mind that the hold choked him with every jolt.

The little sense he had of time vanished as he began slipping in an out of consciousness. Colors, sounds, even the pain; everything melded together in a nonsensical blur that washed over him like a gentle tide. A moan flowed freely beyond his hearing as he was yanked from the back seat, slamming hard into the unforgiving ground. The mud was cold against his bruise and heated cheek and while he savoured the feel it also stung were the grime pressed into his open wounds. He could do little more then squirm, trying to get his legs under him even though getting up had become an impossible task with his leg currently unable to support even the slightest pressure.

_Sam…_

A hand, whose he didn't know or care, swiftly clenched around his collar and commenced dragging him through the mud. The pebbled feel of earth and gravel crushed further beneath his skin, burning, itching and infecting while mingling in his wake to turn the ground a copper tint. Jolted at the sensation of the heavy earth giving way to moist planks of wood, Cody began to attempt once more to gain his footing. While sliding along the ground had previously been painful the lack of friction had eased the burden some. Now every yank provided another torturous pain until he was thrust back against a pillar. Unable to support his weight, he instantly began to slip down from his semi-sitting position until the hand, rough and merciless, grabbed his hair to yank his head back in place. A rope was then tightened around his neck securing him to the post.

"Start searching," Soren called out, but to Cody's ears the voice was distant as though listening from under water.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21: No Mercy No More**

The trail they followed was no more than a scar in the mountain pass and although the grounds were tough to direct through they did so swiftly with sure-footed steps. Time now being of the essence they fought their way along silently, Hank in the lead although it had been years since he'd stepped foot on the trail. He prayed his memory would not fail them, as getting lost in the backwoods of the mountain was a clear possibility and could mean life and death for Cody. The ominous aura of apprehension grew as the minutes ticked by, climaxing as they broke through the foliage and spotted the scene they had been waiting for.

The small one room wooden structure was just as Hank remembered it, if not a little worse for wear. The building had begun to tilt years ago, but surprisingly the angle seemed no worse now. The planking was as weather beaten as ever, showing distinct signs of rotting in the steps and on the stoop. A creeping vine had slowly begun engulfing the sides and roofing, the windowpanes were shattered and the boards that had at one time been placed to protect them were vandalized and barely supported on the nails. Amongst all this disaster, however, they spotted more important factors, such as the door that stood fully open, the black sports car that was parked haphazardly out front and, most frighteningly, the mixtured trail of blood that ran along an indented track in the mud that led through the threshold.

"Stay quiet," Sam warned them, retrieving his semi-automatic and cocking the trigger.

Hank watched as Joe nervously ran a soaked sleeve down his face and felt the same sense of fear reflected in him self. It may have been a distant and unlikely possibility but now they knew for sure that Cody had not run off by himself. Having faced and murdered half a dozen people didn't prepare him for the uncertainty he now felt, walking into a building to face a new and deadly danger. Still he fought against the tension coursing along his veins and followed Sam and Joe to the steps, waiting as each one before him took their turn to walk up slowly to keep from making any noise.

Sam pressed his back to the side of the wall by the door, feeling his boots crushing on shattered dusting of glass. His heartbeat thrummed erratically in his ears and his finger flexed softly on the trigger, ready to fire, as he tried to control his breathing and listen in on the scene before them. He couldn't stop his eyes from traveling the length of the three stairs straight to the threshold, along the line of blood tainted mud and rainwater. In the short time it took them to reach the door, the rain had almost washed away the entire trail and so he knew it must have been as fresh as the tire tracks. Again his fingers tensed around the cool steel and with some effort he forced his eyes back up, catching the desperate looks of Joe and Hank across from him. He knew they would not make a move without him and so, holding his breath, he leaned ever so slightly towards the door. He could just make out the shadowed figures of three men on the far side of the room and tried to lean closer to find Cody.

In the heavy silence around them he could have sworn he hear the cocking of another gun and felt a cold chill break out along his skin, raising the flesh on his arms in a field of goose bumps. Sliding his foot forward he tried once more to see in the darkened corners to find Cody. One of the men, Soren he assumed, was indeed holding out a gun. Following the line of fire the spotted his charge restrained to a pillar off to the side of the alter. Instinct kicked in upon seeing the sight and without any hesitation he threw the door open further with his shoulder and aimed his own weapon at Soren, no longer keeping to silence.

"Don't move," he shouted across the small expanse, gaining the attention of all three men.

While Soren's gun may still have been aimed at Cody's head Sam was at least grateful his attention had been taken off the teen. In the wake of the surprise Sam managed to gain a few precious steps closer before Soren's henchmen pulled their own firearms on the three of them.

"Take another step and he's dead," Soren called, regaining himself and pressing the lip of the gun forcefully against Cody's head.

"Shoot and you'll be as good as dead yourself," Sam snarled venomously.

Soren smiled sinisterly but raised his weapon off the boy, walking with self-assured confidence to the wooden pedestal. Sam followed him with his gaze, making sure to keep the other two in sight as well as he took a tentative step closer to the teen to try and get between him and Soren.

* * *

Hank swallowed hard as he watched the dangerous dance between the two. Even if Soren relented Cody, they were outnumbered as far as weaponry went and he hadn't missed the fact that the two cronies had blocked off the doorway, the only available exit in the pathetically small space. Still at the moment it was Cody's safety that mattered most. He was no more than a heap of blood and grime and Hank feared that he was within an inch from death and wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Both his shoulder and jaw seemed to droop ominously as though broken, shards of bone punctured through his jeans on the leg that lay stretched before him, unmoving unlike the other that he had curled up close to his chest. Both eyes were severely bruised from cheekbone to hairline under the streams of blood with one eyelid hanging jaggedly torn.

He couldn't wait any longer and so he tentatively stepped behind Sam and edged carefully towards the pillar. Soren's eyes darkened at his movements and snatching up the tarnished cross from the dais he launched it with dangerous force towards Hank, startling all three men as it crashed against the wall behind him. Hank froze, his gut clenching painfully as Cody let out a frail whimper and began shivering in fear. With a guttural growl Joe shoved him back, protecting him as he again edged to Cody's side.

"Just let him go," Joe demanded to the cynical laughter of the God of War.

Hank dropped to his knees, quickly pulling at the coarse knot to free Cody, supporting him against his chest as he went about freeing his arms next. The damage to his arm was extensive and at such a close proximity he could hear the watered gurgles in his breathing as blood flowed down into his lungs. There was so much blood…his skin was deathly pale where it wasn't bruised and felt so cold to the touch.

"It won't make any difference. You'll all be dead shortly," came Soren's reply as he fired a well-aimed shot at the pillar above Cody, eliciting another painful cry from the boy who clutched desperately to Hank with his good arm as Hank sheltered him from the debris.

"Bastard," Sam spat charging forward only to be stopped as another shot rang out.

He sunk to his knees with a grunt, a pain fiercer then anything he'd experienced to date coursing through his bicep. He clutched his hand to the wound, a sickening copper taste filling his mouth as the actual form oozed past his fingers and dropped in perfect circular splatters to the floor, melding together in a shapeless puddle. He tried tightening his fingers around the gun, but the flexing pressure on the wound made him wince again and relax his hold, although he didn't drop the steel.

"Sam!"

Joe tried to rush to him only to be blinded with a pain himself as the redhead slammed the butt of his gun across the back of his head. He had barely recovered to his knees when a boot heel met his chest, knocking the wind from him and making it all the easier for the man to grab him in a choke hold. His partner rounded on Hank and Cody, pointing his gun threateningly should he decide to help his friends, but Hank stayed were he was cradling Cody comfortingly and protecting him, ready to shield him with his body if need be.

Soren slowly rounded on Sam, circling him like a vulture ready to dive in for the kill. Coming back round in front of him he grasped onto a fist full of hair, forcing his head back at a painful angle and directing his gun on him once more. Surprisingly staring down the gun-barrel was a lot less frightening then it should have been. The two men faced off silently; sureness and menace a mirrored image. Then letting loose another crazed laugh Soren began softly trailing the peace along Sam's cheekbone and down his chin.

"What's the little whore to you? Could he have given you what's rightfully mine," Soren demanded tilting Sam's head up further as he pressed the barrel along his neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sam spat out through gritted teeth.

Another maniac laugh. "I would have let him live, but he was just so fucking uncooperative," The God of War explained with a threatening undercurrent as he let loose another shot close enough to Sam that he could feel the heat of the bullet wiz past him. "The little bitch, he was only ever good for a tight fuck."

"Shut up!" Sam yelled, the force of which echoed through the room long after the words had died away.

Anger blazing through his veins, he tightened his finger on the trigger, ready to grit through the pain to shoot down the motherfucker before him, however, seeing the light of challenge Soren quickly retorted with a forceful blow to the side of his head. He had scarcely hit the floor when Soren pinned him there with a heel to his wounded arm, grinding it into the ground without remorse.

* * *

Joe fought harder to free himself from the lock of the Irishman, thrashing as he was pressed face down onto the floor snapping and growling. His unrelenting pulsing finally won out and he managed to over turn the other. Grabbing a fist full of flaming hair he attempted to pound the guy's face into the floor. The bastard outweighed him with all muscle and keeping his position proved difficult. A plan became a desperate need once the guard on Hank and Cody turned on him as well to subdue the outburst.

"Joe," Hank called out to him the instant the other man's back was turned. "Throw the gun over there!"

Following his line of sight, Joe spotted a small oiling can against the wall, a drop of gasoline hanging off the lip with a small puddle already formed beneath it. Without thinking the idea through he kicked his leg out towards the gun, just out of reach of the other's hand and watched as it skidded along the floor.

The object blurred as it dashed past Sam's right arm and as though using some insane form of telepathy to understand the plan of the other two he thrashed madly to dislodge Soren from his abused wound. The man stumbled back in confusion and before he could more than regain his footing Sam fired off a shot towards the canister. The air exploded around them and erupted upon hitting the target followed soon after by consecutive blasts as the gun fueled the flames.

Through the thick, scalding smoke he tried to feel his way along the ground to the others. There was barely a creak of a notice before one of the supporting beams collapsed not a meter from him. The embers that flew in the air singed clothes and skin alike. He didn't care what happened to Soren or his men, all that mattered now was finding Cody and the others and making sure they were alive. The fog before him was too thick to see through, however, and after tedious minutes of a crawling pace he began to worry that he had been turned around in the fire. He stopped, choking hard for air and debating turning back in the other direction when out of the confusion a hand reached out and grabbed his.

Cody had managed to blindly grab onto him before exhaustion took over and he collapsed against his chest. Sam clutched him tighter, dragging the injured teen closer and resting his head against the crown of matted hair. Reassuring himself that the teen was alive.

"I knew you'd come," he thought he heard Cody murmur through choking moans and gurgling breaths.

As another section of the room caved in beside them Sam pulled him tighter trying to protect him from the engulfing heat, feeling the flames lick at his forearms and back as he frantically searched for the other two. Hank sidled up to his side next, followed by Joe. Before they had a chance to begin the tedious crawl to the exit Cody already began to squirm in his arms, desperate it seemed to reach the pews. Thinking that he meant for them to get out, Sam helped support him as they inched along the ground, only for the teen to turn into complete dead weight as he tried to turn in Sam's grasp once more.

Sam hissed in frustration and tried to pull him along again, but Cody kicked out his good leg towards the first bench. He hit the side panel and not receiving whatever reaction he had been expecting gathered his strength once more and kicked out harder. To Sam's amazement the wood swung inward, giving way to a hollow passage beneath the seat. Turning to Hank, the other seemed to understand from the look and reached into the space, extracting a tattered and stained parcel. Sam cast his gaze back down at the teen in his arms as Cody's body went heavy and limp.

Quickly Hank slipped the object into his coat pocket and silently the three began inching their way close to the ground once more, now half dragging – half carrying Cody to the exit. Once they reached the door Joe swept Cody's unconscious form into his arms and carried him bridle style away from the ruin of the church.

A good distance from the wreckage of the flames, back on the small path at the edge of the woods, he placed the boy back down, unsure of what to do. Hank had forced Sam to sit so he could cinch the wound with the hem of his top, which he used a pocket knife to tear off. Following his lead, Joe thought to ebb the flow of blood on Cody, but he didn't know where to begin; Cody's wrist, his arm, his leg…should he touch the broken bones or would that make things worse?

"Hank it won't stop," he called desperately, at a complete loss.

Cody hadn't looked nearly this bad when he'd found him the first time. The only thing bleeding, or at least the only thing Cody had let him see, at that time had been his wrist. Even at that, when he'd found the boy the blood had already started to clot and the wounds had simply needed to be washed and bandaged, except for Cody's wrists which had needed a few stitches. Joe had, had to drag him to a clinic for those. This form of damage he couldn't handle.

"Apply pressure to stop the blood flow," Hank called back, viciously yanking the cloth tighter around Sam's arm.

The latter let go with a scream before pulling back and with gritted teeth rasped, "Bastard!"

Hank ignored him and tied the ends together securely before moving to Joe's side. With proficiency that Joe knew he would never feel Hank quickly checked the teen's pulse before instructing Joe to get the jeep as quickly as he could.


	22. Chapter 22 Part 1

**Chapter 22: What Are Sighs And What Is Sadness**

The fresh oxygen came as a welcome blessing, which he greedily took in, savoring the feel in his lungs and the resulting light-headedness. Joe sunk back into the softness of the bed, momentarily closing his eyes. It was the first time in the past two days that his body didn't feel on high alert, but the feeling was hardly peaceful. While the room he was in was quiet, the hospital beyond still buzzed with life, reminding him that Cody was hardly out of danger.

Reluctantly he pulled the mask back and twisted to find Hank sitting on the bed beside his, a matching oxygen mask strapped to his face and a nurse tending to the burns on his forearms.

FLASHBACK

Joe stumbled through the foliage as quickly as possible, trying to mark out a relatively even path he could take back once he reached the jeep. His heart drummed out a staccato rhythm in his chest and echoed in his ears, chocking out any sound. His chest felt heavy with darkened soot that clung to his lungs and burned its way up his throat as his body tried to expel the substance by coughing it out. Still he pushed himself despite the pain.

END FLASHBACK

Both Cody and Sam had been rushed into surgery and neither doctor nor nurse knew anything on the former's stability. The latter would be subjected to a bullet extraction and stitches, but would shortly be moved to another room for rest, or so Joe surmised from the yelled commands he had been able to pick up on when they had first arrived.

FLASHBACK

The car swerved ominously, the breaks protesting the swift turns and speeds on the hazardous roads. Joe twisted to look at the back seat, anxious that the jarring may hurt Cody, but he was still unconscious and spread across Sam's lap. The detective braced the teen against the rocking, framing him with both arms and legs; his back pressed against the door and his wounded arm occasionally slammed against the seat. Joe could see the perspiration forming along Sam's brow and upper lip, and noted the trembling in his limbs. The pain must have been unbearable, but not once did he cry out or complain, knowing as well as Joe did that getting to the hospital as quickly as possible was imperative.

Already they would be pressed for time, having to drive a town over from the last just to reach the hospital. It seemed the town the orphanage was in only had a small clinic; not at all equiped to handle Cody's injuries. Joe found he was just grateful that despite the backwood nature of the place it had a proper care facility and they wouldn't have to drive hours out of their way in order to find a larger town, or even a city.

END FLASHBACK

* * *

Late afternoon found Joe impatiently ghosting the halls of the trauma wing. Just a few hours earlier the local police had interrogated both Hank and him, and having his ignorance of Cody's history rubbed in his face did not sit well with him. He hadn't appreciated their insinuations that Cody had anything to do with what had happened to him or their hinting at his possible involvement in anything illegal. In any case it was Hank who had filled them in on the details of the past two days, leaving it to him to simply mutely nod his acquiescence of the facts.

Last he had seen of the two beat-cops, they had been with Sam, being chewed out for the same suggestions and looking amusingly fearful. All over the shouts of a bed ridden man who was still coming off the residual high from having been put out and strung on morphine, and forced to pet Jeff who was whoring for attention. Joe couldn't help briefly grinning at the mental image. So long as the fury was directed towards another he had no problem seeing the humor in the situation. Of course, he had often been on the receiving end of another's fury and so, despite his own anger, he felt sorry for them too.

Trying to tap down his disarrangement of feelings Joe took the corner quickly only to stumbled back a step, his action mirrored by a surprised looking Hank before his features melted into his easy smile.

Hank held up a Styrofoam cup and offered, "I'm glad I found you. I bought you a coffee. After I give Sam his why don't we grab a bite from the cafeteria?"

* * *

Joe picked on his fries, his appetite lacking with the reel of the past events. Claiming his coffee again he silently contemplated his friend, admiring his calm.

"So how does it feel? Going from a good little Christian boy to a murderer and now bringing about the destruction of a church," he couldn't help but tease, looking for a reaction that could break that cool façade.

Hank couldn't help but chuckle. He didn't allow himself to be baited by the goading, however, and simply smiled secretly if not a little bitterly.

"You're assuming I was ever that good," he retorted with another chuckle at Joe's surprise. Sobering he continued, "I may have had my problems with the religion, but I never thought things would turn out like this. It's hard to believe that just a few months ago I use to be…normal."

Joe felt the same chagrin as Hank did and sympathized, "I know what you mean. I had a simple life filled with liquor, women, and cards and now here I am tangled up with you three."

His friends had consisted mainly of the opposite sex, his days revolved around work at the bar and nightly tussles, and now here he was surrounded by cops, murderers, drug dealers, and the high-end scum of society. Never would he have guessed his life taking such a turn when he'd first faced the scared and uncertain teen – who'd stumbled into the bar, looking the part of the street urchin – those two years ago.

* * *

Sam made his way down the halls, searching out Cody's room. His arm throbbed painfully and a heat emanated from the wound to spread sluggishly through his entire body. He had been warned to stay in bed, but refused even though he knew he risked over exertion. He'd lost a significant amount of blood which was presently crusted on his shirt sleeve and jacket, and he risked infection from the bullet particles and cloth that had been embedded in the wound at the time of entry. However, with the falling of night and the stillness that descended over the hospital he figured this was the best time to check on Cody.

Hank and Joe were both presently in his room trying to sleep on the armchairs as there were no beds available and they refused to leave until they had news of Cody. Sam knew the cop interrogations had stirred their concern and neither did he blame them. It seemed that when it came to the God of War the local poppers weren't willing to take any chances. Sam could have smirked at their idiotic and misguided precautions – hicks like them had no place getting involved in these matters – but the sound died in his throat at spotting another one staked outside Cody's door.

The kid looked to be in his early twenties; still overcoming a bad case of acne that had obviously been the bane of his teenage years. Added to which, his soft curving cheeks and innocent looking chocolate eyes made him look considerably younger. Despite Sam having been close to him in age and with the combination of the angelic colors he portrayed, his jaw was a stern line and his violet eyes like chips of tinted ice, giving him an air of sternness. He took a perverse pleasure in noting the flicker of intimidation his appearance caused the other man.

"What the hell is this?" Sam demanded, his tone a low burr.

"Look I'm just doing as I was told, I don't want any trouble," the other stammered uncertainly making Sam wonder how he'd ever made it to become a cop in the first place.

The closer he approached the further the other man backed away and so Sam made no further comment once the doorway was cleared and he could step into the room. For a moment the cop looked as though he would make a comment, but one glance shut him up and hindering any further conversation Sam smartly shut the door, just barely keeping himself from slamming it.

Through the veil of darkness he could make out Cody's fragile figure on the bed. In the river of moon light he looked deathly pale and surrounded by the machines and IV tubes he looked impossibly small. Carefully Sam approached the bed, noting the assortment of different casts with a twinge of apprehension. Most of the teen's face was covered in bandages and a metal contraption that now held his jaw in place, but they didn't hide the furrow between his brows or the frown on his lips. As Sam stood there Cody attempted to twist and writhe, letting out small gasps and moans that barely reached Sam's ears, when the teen inevitably jarred his injuries with the movements. Sam reached out a hand to settle him down, but to his consternation Cody flinched away from the touch.

It seemed so reminiscent of the past few months when he'd find the teen sleeping on the couch, but those times now felt years away and he didn't continue to hold Cody until he woke up to see that he was safe. Safe wasn't something Sam could guarantee besides the fact that the poor kid needed rest more than anything else right then. With a self deprecating sigh he reached for the small table light beside the bed and clicked it on, casting a pale glow over the bed and throwing Cody's face into a sea of shadows. With avid fascination he watched as the creases instantly smoothed in the childish features, and as the movements steadied.

As Cody calmed Sam settled himself in the seat beside the bed, his elbows braced on the bed by Cody's prone form and his head resting against his fists. It was in this same position that he awoke the next morning with a terrible pain in his neck and shoulder that couldn't even begin to match that of the one in his bicep. Gritting his teeth against the searing stiffness and pain, he attempted to stretch out his muscles as best he could while making sure that Cody was still fast asleep. In the light of day the injuries seemed more numerous and prominent and he cursed the fact that he couldn't have come to his rescue sooner.

It was with these self-deprecating thoughts in mind, and as he sat beside the bed cradling his throbbing arm, that he heard the steady rhythm of stilettos approaching. All the nurses he had seen had been wearing sensible, orthopedic shoes or running shoes, and so he was filled with a greater sense of dread at the knowledge that his assumption was most likely right on the mark. It came as little surprise that the beat ended outside their room and without a knock or call the door was silently pushed open.


	23. Chapter 22 Part 2

**Chapter 23: To A Heart That's Coming Home**

If she had traced him to the room, and Sam knew she had been looking for him since she had no reason to be seeing Cody herself, that meant the nurses were probably looking for him as well. He'd have to remember to ask one for a sling. No longer did he intend to play the good patient, forced to remain in bed over a little fever, but his arm was in desperate need of support.

"Well if it isn't the vigilante cop," came the taunting voice of Cameron Bosa.

"What the hell are you talking about? For that matter what the hell are you doing here? How did you find us?" Sam retorted, still too tired to play games.

"I am a cop Genet. I'm privy to acts of violent destruction even if this hadn't landed on my doorstep this morning. _Private investigator takes down church in order to save hostage from God of War_."

"Cut the bullshit," Sam retorted, scrubbing his hands over along his face, just barely managing to suppress a grunt of pain at having jarred his wound, and irked by the coarse stubble that grated along his fingers.

"If only it was."

At the sound of a paper snapping open he turned only to be faced with a front page article of their encounter of the previous night.

_Ah damn it. _

"Let's get a coffee huh?" Bosa questioned with a meaningful look towards the bed.

While he would have preferred a shower or at the very least the chance to brush his teeth first, Sam none the less silently complied and followed her from the room to the cafeteria, once more cradling his arm as though it were in a sling to relieve the pressure. The early morning meant that the room was empty, but the place was open and already filled with the heady aroma of bacon.

It took only moments for them to get their coffee and settle at a table by the row of windows. They remained in silence for a while longer, Sam savoring the dark black coffee as he watched Bosa butcher her own with four packets of raw sugar cane. Idly stirring her coffee she studied him with the intensity of a well-trained cop, but he didn't let anything show – not his insecurities, his pain, or the worry he felt. He knew her presence was meant to be supportive, but he didn't want or need to depend on anyone else. He would get through this just as he got through every other painful moment in his life. Alone.

"Why didn't you call me for backup?" She finally asked.

Sam leaned back in his seat with a sigh and explained, "We weren't intending to have a face off. There was no reason to believe Soren was involved this deeply until we reached the church and by that time it was too late."

"Are you sure it wasn't just some heroic attempt on your part? Maybe an old juvenile need to make a statement, what with the image of a burnt church and all?"

Taking another sip Sam snorted at her suggestions, ignoring her to look out the window. It had stopped raining, but the forested grounds were shrouded in a thick fog and the weather looked damp and cold. Any evidence that could have been collected had surely washed away by now; car tracks, footprints, anything and everything had been wiped clean if not from the rain then from the fire.

"I hope you intend to take responsibility for this?" Bosa questioned, her tone switching instantly back to serious.

"Responsibility for what? The church was a casualty, besides I doubt anyone will miss it," Sam retorted as he got up to toss his empty cup and began back down the hall to Cody's room, Bosa tagging hard on his heals.

"Not the church you clueless bastard, the boy! Clearly he needs someone to take care of him. I can have the D.A petition a judge to grant you legal guardianship, at least temporarily. At the moment he's both physically and emotionally impaired and potentially still in danger of another attack. I think he could stand to use the protection."

No sarcastic retorts sprang instantly to mind which unsettled him, but in the same sense he understood that it would be for the best. Whether he wanted to or not, at this point he knew he would be tangled up with the others for quite some time to come and while he had done little to encourage it Cody had befriended him and the kid did trust him. He supposed – if only temporarily – he could play guardian to the teen. After all he was already having the boy live with him, what was one more commitment? Really nothing would change except now in the eyes of the law he would become legally responsible.

Before he had a chance to voice his opinion, however, they reached the hall to Cody's room where a ruckus had broken out. Two nurses stood apprehensively in the doorway while a raised voice emanated from within the room. Sam didn't recognize the rasping baritone, but could guess whom it belonged to.

He took the hall at a run, Bosa following close behind, and roughly pushed his way into the room to square off with the wide berth of the local sheriff. The other looked to be well into his fifties, his temples a thick grey with the rest of his brown hair streaked the same. His leathery skin showed signs of wrinkles that spoke of too many days spent out in the sun. In contrast to Sam, his shoulders and chest were both well defined, even with the expanding size of his stomach, and his neck looked twice as thick as any regular man's. An overly generous dusting of dark hair covered his massive forearms, revealed by the short sleeved uniform. His eyes, almond shape and a non-descript brown, were keen and shone with a fire of challenge and threat. Despite being clearly outweighed and shorter than the man Sam wasn't in the least intimidated.

Sam's temper flared at the look of pure terror on Cody's features and the desperately pleading look in his un-bandaged eye. At seeing him Cody instantly fought his way into a sitting possition, abandoning the support of the mountain of pillows against his back.

"I didn't Sam, I didn't," Cody tried to ensure, his speech made difficult with his broken jaw being held together by metal pins, which made Sam want to curse out the other man for making the kid talk in his condition in the first place.

Without any further thought Sam stepped between him and the sheriff, placing a reassuring hand on Cody's head when the teen fisted his left hand in his top and shook his head vehemently.

The sheriff crossed his massive arms over his chest and demanded, "You the detective?"

"I am, now what the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam shot back.

His eyes flicked to the door where Bosa nodded her understanding without him needing to make a comment. She was already pulling out her cell phone as she backed away back down the hall. Sam knew she would have whatever papers they needed for the legal guardianship as quickly as possible and so he tried not to worry as he turned his full attention to the other man.

"Just questioning the boy," the sheriff replied with a humourless smile, his eyes once more narrowing in threat. "Now step out before I have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

Sam's jaw almost clenched painfully at the feel of Cody's grip reflexively tightening around the hem of his shirt and the pitiful moan that broke through his lips.

Keeping his voice at a soft burr he said, "Your tactics may work with the backwater hicks around here, but I won't be intimidated that easily. He's injured and in no condition to be interrogated by you nor has he even given you reason to interrogate him in the first place."

"He has a history with the God of War and of your own friend's admission he went to him on his own. This could have been a simple reunion," the sheriff mused.

Desperate and with words made painful Cody was left with no other way to show that the suggestion wasn't true but to softly whine and press his face, obstructed as it was, into Sam's side.

Before Sam could reply, however, the sheriff continued, "He must have pissed Daddy off awfully bad to deserve such a punishment."

Cody's fingers flexed again and Sam could imagine the white knuckled tension that must have been paining his wrist as well. The action was mirrored by his own fists, which sent shockwaves of pain through to his wound and into his palms where half moons were carved out from his nails. This had gone far enough.

"You bastard!" he clipped out through clenched teeth as the hall filled with pounding footsteps again before the threshold was filled with the silhouettes of Hank and Joe.

"What's going on?" Hank questioned as both men cautiously squirted the sheriff to stand by the bedside.

"This isn't some three ring circus, I want you all out!" the sheriff demanded, looking to be nearing the end of his ropes.

"Like hell," Sam shot back, just as vehemently.

"Sheriff?" Hank questioned calmly, once more falling into the roll of the only level headed one amongst their group.

"He thinks Cody's involved with Soren," Sam ground out as explanation.

Hank cast a sceptical look from the sheriff to the teen, cowering behind Sam, his face pressed distraughtly against his protectors back. Since he had known the teen and having spent most of his days as of late watching the way he interacted with Sam, he couldn't help but see the boy as a bit of a lost puppy. He diligently followed the older man like a second shadow, absorbing praise and the strange sense of friendship he got from the other. To say that Cody would betray that…to even fathom the teen, broken as he was now, siding with someone like Soren was preposterous. Hank knew without a shadow of a doubt that Cody simply didn't have it in him to be evil, and to join with Soren that's precisely what he would have had to be.

"Sheriff, Cody would never," but he didn't get a chance to finish before he was cut off.

"It's all nice and good that you trust him, but it doesn't mean jack all. The longest any of you have known him has been two years. You know nothing of his past, hell you couldn't even give me a last name," the sheriff fired at them.

The words were, unfortunately, humbling. He hadn't known Cody that long and, the study sessions not withstanding, he hadn't spent nearly as much time with him as the other two had. To discover, in front of the police of all people, that none of them really knew anything about Cody…well it didn't put matters in their favour. Hank wasn't sure now how to respond to the detective when in his twisted way he did have a point, even though his theories were still far-fetched and absolutely wrong. He was saved from having to do anything, however, when Joe spoke up on all their behaves.

"You can talk circles around the subject all you want, but it won't change the fact that Cody had nothing to do with any of this!" the bartender yelled with a protective fury that could match the detective's. "He's been scared shitless over Soren since I've met him and if you need proof that he's been running from the guy we can track down the reverend that can back up his story. Now get the hell out of here before we file a complaint for police harassment."

The sheriff's face darkened in anger, his lips pressed so tightly together that the thin line had turned pale from lack of blood. He mumbled further threats but none of them paid him any further attention as he left the room.

Hank turned to focus back on Cody. The teen was covered in a sheen of sweat, his bandages starting to soak through as the gauze collected the moisture. He had been trembling before, but his limbs looked to be outright shaking now. His teeth chatter together and his fingers clenched in Sam's shirt in a vice-like grip that Sam tried to loosen, but couldn't. Unable to pry the boy off as he began to sob, Sam was left with the only option of holding Cody to his chest and awkwardly rubbing his back. At a loss and desperate for advice, the violet gaze sought out Hank's.

"His body must be going into shock," Hank supplied, slowly filling with dread. "I'll get a nurse."

* * *

After the "excitement" with the police officers the doctor insisted that Cody be kept sedated for the next two days. He had so many injuries and they didn't want to chance him upsetting the newly setting bones or risk further emotional strain on top of everything else. Although the drugs were only meant to calm the nerves and help ease the pain, they had the effect of putting Cody to sleep. They all figured with the stress, not only of the past few days, but of the past few years in Cody's case, his body was finally getting the rest it needed.

None of them wanted to leave the hospital, or more specifically Cody's side, in case the police decided on a second attempt at questioning him. The very same day as the face-off with the sheriff Sam had gone to court with Bosa and been granted temporary guardianship, after which they had instantly put in for a transfer of hospitals. Now that Cody's vitals were stable they only needed to wait a few more hours for the scheduled departure time. It didn't seem as though the police were pressing charges after all and so they all felt safer with having Cody moved to Sacred Heart, where they'd be back in their own city and far away from the nightmares of the past few days.

The three of them hung out in the room, a little anxious and tense, but silent and keeping to themselves. Hank and Joe played a lazy game of poker on the second bed in the room, while Sam chose to sit in the chair by Cody and read the paper. He had only left the room once, to take a shower and go to the courthouse, since the incident. Neither of the other two men had questioned his behaviour and Hank had simply taken it upon himself to bring Sam's meals to the room. They hadn't talked about it, but Hank suspected the other two felt the way he did and believed that when Cody woke up it would be best for him to see a familiar face.

For his part, Cody hadn't so much as stirred for the past three days. With the emotional and physical trauma he had suffered it seemed almost cruel to wake him and force the memories to consciousness. As it was, Hank knew the peaceful expression on Cody's slumbering face was barely masking the strain within. Even in his drug-induced rest if they attempted to close the lights at night he would instantly begin to writhe and whimper.

With a sigh Hank put a stop to any further thoughts on the matter. Now that they had Cody back and were returning home they could all help him to overcome this ordeal. As strange as it felt, none of them were alone anymore. As the weight of this new realization sank in a small sob carried from the other bed. The covers shifted ever so slightly and in an instant the three men were crowding around the bed side, anxious to see if the few days of mindless rest had helped ease the shock any.

"Cody, are you awake?" Hank asked gently, brushing a lock off hair off the boy's forehead, minding the bandages that still cover his eye.

An almost imperceptible nod was all the response they got. Or needed. Hank felt some of the tension drain from his limbs as a smile pulled at his lips.

"Can you open you're eyes?" he questioned next.

It took a moment, but slowly the one uncovered eye lifted to reveal the blank stare of the deep golden orb. The gaze shifted awkwardly around the room, resting on all of them briefly. Silently questioning.

Sam took up Cody's cast free hand in both of his, his thumb idly tracing a circle along the back of Cody's palm in a soothing gesture as he explained, "You're in the hospital, Cody. Do you remember what happened?"

They could practically see his mind working to try and fill in the mysteries, and each was hit with an instant sense of guilt as Cody slammed his eye shut and sobbed again as he was flooded with understanding. Sam clenched his hand tighter around Cody's, feeling the cold digits begin to shake and panicked that he would go into shock again.

"Calm down Cody," Joe soothed before Sam could say anything. "We're all here and you're safe now. We're taking you back home."

But despite all their efforts they could do very little for Cody as he cried out the pain and maybe… possibly…in relief too.

* * *

It was almost an hour later and calmed once more Cody sat with his back propped up on the pillows, petting Jeff with his cast free arm and giving him the attention he had missed out on in the chaos of the past few days. He could only feel teasing wisps of the soft fur against is fingers as the bandages protecting the puncture marks would straight down his palm. Still he found the motion soothing and Jeff didn't seem to mind the barrier of cloth either.

Cody hadn't thought he would make it through Soren's torture this time around. He had prayed differently, but in all honesty he had thought himself as good as dead the moment the car had blocked him on the street. Now for the first time in as long as he could remember he wasn't alone. What he felt now wasn't the same as what he had with Nathan. Now he had friends, but he also had security, stability and more importantly a chance at a future. He had never thought he could posses so much in his life and he was now determined to protect it with all he had in him.

"Cody," Hank said, standing beside him and holding out the rumbled package that had been like shackles for the past few years, ensuring his connection with Soren, his pain, and his seedy past.

With shaking fingers Cody clutched the coarse paper to his chest with his good arm, spotting the crusted blood that had turned a woodsy brown with the passing of time, taking him back to that fateful night. He had made a promise, one he had tried to keep despite the physical dangers, but it was time to face the reality of the situation now.

_I'm sorry I failed you Nathan. I tried…I really did…_

"Sam," he whispered, hoping if he kept his voice down the words wouldn't sound as distorted as they tended to with his jaw brace. "I was…supposed to give this to Colton Genet, but I don't think I'll ever find him. So…I want you to have this."

All three men gasped at his words and worried that he had said the wrong thing he cast a remorseful gaze between all three of them. He hadn't meant for it to sound as though he were passing off his responsibility or risking Sam's life as he had his own all these years. He was giving up, it was true, but he didn't have the strength to continue the chase any longer.

"What did you say?" Sam questioned, looking as though he was barely containing his anger and making Cody gnaw on his lower lip in apprehension. "What was that name again?"

"He said Genet didn't he?" Joe asked.

The three men crowded his bed now and it made him worry further. He couldn't meet any of their gazes now as he desperately clutched the package, the soft crinkle almost soothing in its familiarity. He flinched when Sam laid a hand on his shoulder, but the touch, although insistent, was gentle. It wasn't meant to hurt or threaten and so, slowly Cody raised his gaze once more.

"Cody, Genet is Sam's last name. Do you mean the package is for Sam Genet?" Hank asked gently.

Cody shook his head, but it was Sam that clarified. "No Colton was my adoptive father's name."

In wide-eyed wonder Cody studied him as though seeing him for the first time. Could it really be possible that after all this time he had found the man that would free him from his responsibility. Could it be possible that in all the time he spent with Sam he had been so close to his goal. If he had only said the name sooner, if he had asked for help sooner…

"He," Sam cleared his throat with an effort. "He died six years ago now."

So his goal had always been an impossible one, destine to fail from the very start. Cody's face fell for an instant before he was filled with a renewed sense of conviction, "Then I still want you to have it."

He held out the parcel to Sam who cautiously took it, eyeing the object as though at a loss. Then slowly, as though not completely sure he should, he began pulling back the edge. Unbinding one end he tipped it sideways and as they all watched with batted breath, a scroll fell out into his waiting hand. Despite the wear and the years the paper was still a crisp, pristine white, the wood that could be seen from the flat edges was smooth and sleek, devoid of any indentures or scratches.

"What is it," Joe asked, confusion etching his features as they studied the object.

"I don't know. I've never seen it before…and he's never talked about it," Sam replied without looking up.

"One mystery solved as another begins," Hank mumbled.

It seemed as far as endings went this one still had mysteries to unravel.


	24. Author's Note

**Some of you may have noticed that I used song titles and/or lyrics for my chapter titles as well as the story title. This is how the list goes:**

**_P.S. Check out the sequel Second Sight_**

All That's Left (song title) Thrice

C1 – In Dying Memory (garage band name)

C2 – Red Is The New Black (song title) Funeral For A Friend

C3 – Send Me An Angel (song title) Thrice

C4 – Handguns And Second Chances (song title) Senses Fail

C5 – Don't Look Back In Anger (song title) Oasis

C6 – Smashed Into Pieces (song title) Silverstein

C7 – The Weak And The Wounded (song title) Silverstein

C8 – Torn Within (song title) As I Lay Dying

C9 – My Sanity On The Funeral Pyre (song title) Atreyu

C10 – The Sound Of Silence (song title) Simon and Garfunkel

C11 – Into The Dark Past (song title) Angel Dust

C12 – Beside You (song title) Van Morrison

C13 – At Least I know I'm A Sinner (song title) Atreyu

C14 – All These Things That I've Done (song title) The Killers

C15 – Standing All Alone (song title) Not By Choice

C16 – Everything Is All Right (song title) Plus 44

C17 – I Feel Like I'm In For It Now (lyrics) The Gift - Angels And Airwaves

C18 – Standing On The Edge (lyrics) I want To Save You - Something Corporate

C19 – She Prays To The Lord I'll Be Fine (lyrics) Mother's Prayer - Mest

C20 – How To Save A Life (song title) The Fray

C21 – No Mercy No More (lyrics) Fallen Angels - Within Temptation

C22 part 1 – What Are Sighs And What Is Sadness (lyrics) Long, Long Journey - Enya

C22 part 2 – To A Heart That's Coming Home (lyrics) Long, Long Journey - Enya


End file.
